


Money Shot

by HollyLeah



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, He deserves his own warning, I hesitate to put Skip Westcott/Peter Parker as a relationship, M/M, Multi, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter is 18, Peter is a cameraman, Protective Wade Wilson, Schizophrenic Wade Wilson, Sexual Abuse, Skip Westcott - Freeform, Tags to be added, Vanessa is a good Bro, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, Wade Wilson has feelings, Wade is 25, Wade is a youtuber, Weasel is a good bro, Youtuber AU, because it very much was not, but not until later, everyone is a bit ooc but it's an au so calm your tits, the boxes are a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-06-25 07:57:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyLeah/pseuds/HollyLeah
Summary: “Alright, my fellow mercenaries, place your bets and hold onto your dicks, ‘cause it’s Deadpool time.”Wade is a famous YouTuber just trying to get his head to make a little more sense. Peter is Michelle's cameraman for her Youtube channel who's too sweet for his own good. One fateful collaboration between the two channels brings these two goofballs together and changes everything...for better and for worse._______________________________________________"Wade. What the literal fuck.""In my defense, I never actually specified what tools we could use. So, technically, using knives was well within the bounds of the rules.""Again. What the fuck, Wade."





	1. @Deadpool

**Author's Note:**

> What's up guys. I haven't written anything in a very long time due to reasons, and so this story (and others that follow) is kind of like a dive head first back into the writing scene without a paddle. 
> 
> Some quick notes:
> 
> Wade has schizophrenia. The boxes are a byproduct of it. I am by no means an expert on this topic, but I tried to keep them like they are in the comics only with slight changes since this is an au. I am open to people with more experience than me helping me shape them into something more realistic. 
> 
> The sexual abuse tag comes later. All chapters dealing with this issue will be labeled accordingly. 
> 
> Wade has some scarring on the side of his face due to something that will be addressed later, but most of his face is still intact and he has hair. I'm aiming more towards comic Deadpool than Reynolds appearance-wise, but you can imagine it as you will. He's kind of like a mash-up between them anyway. 
> 
> I feel like this is going to be one of those stories that I'm constantly going to be going back and tweaking as I go. Not to change anything, just to make it read better with editing and stuff. Nothing too crazy.
> 
> Feel free to ask me anything in the comments section! I'll try my best to answer all of you to the best of my ability - unless it's a spoiler, of course. 
> 
> But yeah. I hope you enjoy :) 
> 
> [White]  
> {Yellow}

“Hey, Weas, we rollin’?”

 

“Hold your saggy tits, Wade _…yes,_ we’re rolling. I’m keeping that in, by the way. I’m _hilarious.”_

 

Wade threw an incredulous look at his cameraman, Weasel, searching gaze held by his friend’s, knowing full well that the douche was zooming in on his face. What an ass.

 

“Dude, no way. _That_ would be spreading false information, and I pride my channel in being as honest as a dude with a knife to his balls, thank you very much.” He peered down to look straight into the camera, flashing a dazzling smile that had Weasel fake-gagging. “Rest assured, dear viewers, that although I _do_ have tits, they are not, in fact, saggy. Contrary to what that fuck-ass _camper-”_ insert insulted gasp from Weas - “may claim, I have a very nice and firm rack that you can see more of on my tumblr, username Deadpool.”

 

The YouTuber sent a wink to the camera. “How’d you guys like that plug? Was it good?”

 

“It was terrible,” Weasel mocked.

 

“Fuck off, _Jack,”_ Wade retorted. His bro hated his real name. Weasel brought his hand in front of the camera and flicked him off.

 

A laugh burst out of Wade’s chest and when it finally settled he continued, “Okay, okay, I think the intro has gone on long enough.” With a resounding clap of his hands that had Weasel jumping with a curse, the blond cleared his throat before flinging his arms to the side with a grin.

 

“Alright, my fellow mercenaries, place your bets and hold onto your dicks, ‘cause it’s Deadpool time.”  

__

He launched into the video, a simple Q&A choke full with questions that nearly had him choking with laughter and others that made him take a pause and be serious for once (those ones were usually about mental health issues - the only one that wasn’t was asking what his favorite dog breed was which demanded his full attention and was not a joke dammit). By the end of the video, Wade’s face hurt from smiling so much and Weasel looked like he was about to pass out.

 

“So that’s all the questions-” he cut himself off with a snort, still laughing from some of the more hilarious questions (and answers); Weasel stopped trying to hold his laughter back, “That’s all the questions for today…BUT WAIT, THERE’S STILL MORE CONTENT!”

 

A theatrical gasp of astonishment from his cameraman nearly had him losing composure again. He took a deep breath and continued.

 

“I know what you’re thinking: 'Gasp! Oh em gee, Deadpool, are you going to announce that you’re actually an anti-hero disguised as a YouTuber that does mercenary work to rid the world of scumbags one bullet at a time?' Well…no, I’m not.”

 

Another snort. “Actually, I don’t know why I made you guys say that since that would be so fucking awesome, but the truth is…I’m doing a collab!”

 

A sudden pop sounded beside Wade and he nearly jumped five feet in the air as brightly colored confetti rained down on him. “ _Holy shit, what the fuck_ ,” he screeched. He spun his head to the side, prepared to throw down, but he just hung his head chuckling breathlessly when he caught sight of Vanessa, shit-eating grin on her face, holding a used confetti popper thing in her perfectly manicured hands.

 

Weasel nearly burst into tears.

 

Vanessa couldn’t hold back a giggle.

 

Wade pressed one hand against his heart and the other to his neck, checking his own pulse. A solemn look passed over his face and he shook his head sadly, gazing sorrowfully into the camera.

 

“And tragedy strikes,” he started, voice low and intense like he was speaking at a funeral. Weasel just about busted his knees struggling to sit down. Somehow, Wade managed to keep eye contact with the lens no matter what way Weasel jostled it. “Three days before Wade Winston Wilson, known to the internet as the YouTube sensation Deadpool who has merch available right now through the description link below, collabed with the amazing artist Michelle Jones a.k.a MJDoodles, he was viciously and painfully murdered - to **death** \- by his ex girlfriend Vanessa Hudgens 2.0 and her accomplice, House Pet Rodent, for a cheap laugh. Yes, yes, terrible, truly terrible.”

 

Vanessa rolled her eyes and chucked the used device at his head. It hit him without Wade breaking his gaze with the camera.

 

“And now she’s back, seemingly hellbent on winning the overkill bonus points. Nothing like beating a dead donkey with a dick to really settle your bloodlust.”

 

This time it was Weasel that threw something at him, a slim piece of plastic that Wade tried to catch without looking. He failed spectacularly but kept looking at the lens intently.

 

Weasel chortled. “Good job, Ryan Reynolds.”

 

“Thank you. Wait, _The Notebook_  Ryan Reynolds or _X-Men_ Ryan Reynolds?”

 

“ _Green Lantern_  Reynolds.”

 

“You take that back, you son of a bitch.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Vanessa cut in, “Okay, so I know you guys like to compare yourselves to celebrities - Weasel, you look way too much like TJ Miller it’s not even funny - but…Wade looks nothing like Ryan Reynolds? I’m confused.”

 

Wade squinted at her. “I see your point, but here’s my argument: first of all - how dare you. Second, we _kind of_  do. It’s all circumstantial. He’s handsome, I’m handsome. _He’s_ got some scars somewhere, _I’ve_ got a lot of scars a-lot-of-where. It’s uncanny, really.”

 

A prim eyebrow raised in judgement.

 

“Also I think that he’d absolutely _kill_ it if he played me in a movie.”

 

Never has Vanessa looked so completely over Wade’s shit.

 

“...uh, yeah, I’m gonna have to cut all of that out. Thanks for giving me more work to do, jackass.” the cameraman said. Wade whined.

 

“What, seriously? Oh, man this blows. Hey, can we at least keep until Vanessa starts speaking?”

 

Vanessa slapped his arm. “Asshole.”

 

“Yeah, sure. That was funny.” Weasel agreed. “Anyway, we gotta get back on track or we’re never gonna finish making this video. You’re making a collab with Michelle.”

 

With one last clearing of his throat, Wade exhaled and beamed. “Anyway, now that that’s over with, **yes** , I am doing a collab with MJDoodles, you should check her out if you like artsy shit and pretty views. I’m actually really excited and I can’t wait to meet her and her _gorgeous_ cameraman. Like seriously. I’m pretty sure I dreamed him up in a wet dream I had and he came to life by the power of my Thirst ™. I’ll put a picture up here-” he pointed beside him vaguely “so you guys can see what I’m talking about. For real. Whoever gets with him better treat him right or I’m gonna go _off_.

 

“So ya. That’s all the content we have for today’s video but before you go make sure you check down in the description box for MJ’s channel, like and subscribe to this one - wait, do I ask you guys to do that? That seems kind of pushy so probably not. I don’t know why I said that…anyway, as always, place your bets for next week’s video and maybe you’ll be the lucky winner of - dramatic pause - the dead pool. Ta!”

 

With that, Weasel cut the camera off. Wade immediately slumped in his seat as the boxes, silent throughout the entire making of the video, rushed back to the surface of his mind, clambering for attention.

 

{Yay! The video’s done. Thank fuck. Yo, do you have any idea where we go when you go into your YouTuber head space? Let me tell ya, it ain’t pretty.}

 

[It might be. We just can’t tell, you know, since **_it’s a pitch black nothingness void where we can’t hear or say shit,_** Wade. It sucks in there!]

 

“Well, tough, you guys can get over it,” Wade mumbled, suddenly hyper aware of where Vanessa sat beside him, fingers twitching at she struggled not to touch him, of how Weasel kept sending him glances every few moments as he packed up all the filming equipment, of the two large windows on the opposite end of the room where strangers could peer in and laugh at the insane man talking to himself like a fucking _asylum_ patient -

 

{We’re not an asylum patient. We got out of there a few years ago, remember? And good riddance, too. Tch. Bastards, every last one of them.}

 

[Trynna get rid of us. Assholes.]

 

{Heyheyhey, we should go back and teach them a lesson.}

 

[Yeah, good idea…show them how mistaken they were to try and murder us like **animals**.]

 

{Show ‘em what happens when they fuck with the wrong people.}  

 

[We should bring the pistols.]

 

{Bring the katanas.}

 

[Slice and dice.]

 

{Hear the vermin _squeal_.}

 

[Watch them _bleed_.]

 

{ _Rip them}_

_[Tear them]_

_[{cut and yank until there’s nothing left-}]_

_[{killthemkillthemkillthem ** **kILLTHEM**** -}]_

 

Gentle, warm fingers pressed softly into the skin of Wade’s hands and it was only then that Wade noticed he sat crumpled in his chair, face buried in his hands while his fingers gripped his hair almost painfully.

 

“Weasel and I were thinkin’ about ordering some pizza. That sound good?” she asked, brown eyes searching Wade’s blue ones. Wade was immediately grateful. On the surface, it just seemed like a concerned friend making sure he was okay, but Vanessa was a pro. She was making sure it was him in there, making sure his eyes held even the slightest hint of clarity.

 

She’d been there before Wade was admitted to the mental hospital (humbly referred to as the asylum by its residents), back when he still lived with his fuck stain of a father and the voices were so unstable and _**loud**_ he had nearly killed his neighbor when he saw him beating his wife from his bedroom window. It had been a close call, too, way too close for comfort; his knife had been all set and ready to plunge into the guys jugular when he suddenly snapped out of the boxes’ hold and realized what he was doing.

 

His neighbors moved away, but they thankfully didn’t press charges. That’s probably the only reason he’s still allowed to own weapons.

 

It had been hard work getting over that, recovery an endless road of twists and curves that sometimes brought him back in a loop before progressing in leaps and bounds, only to drag him back again with the slightest provocation. The hospital somehow managed to help him reel the boxes in, cajoling and nudging them until they gained some semblance of sanity (oh, the irony of that statement).

 

Making videos had been part of a last ditch effort to gain control of them. Or, at the very least, make them less inclined to verbally abuse him at every turn. At the very _most_ keep them from gaining control and trying to hurt someone again.

 

YouTube had really, really helped. The boxes went away for a few minutes so he could make a video and then they came back, slightly disgruntled but calmer, somehow. Less likely to lash out. It had been good. Wade and Weasel, the dynamic duo, making short three minute videos of themselves dicking around with weapons and other shit. There was no deadline, no pushing, no money, nothing at all; just the W2 YouTube channel and their own imaginations. 

 

Then his channel started growing. People started to regularly watch him, people started to actually recognize him on the streets, people started commenting on his videos requesting things for next time and it was awesome.

 

But with growth comes change. His channel name changed (Weasel made the push for that particular change - he was more comfortable behind the camera anyway), his videos needed more prep time, more equipment, more time in general. Three minute clips turned into five minutes, ten, fifteen, twenty, until it took half a day to just plan a video and a few _days_ to produce it in full.  

 

Longer videos meant longer timeouts for the boxes.

 

And they really, really didn’t like that.

 

The first time they got really, well and truly angry at Wade for locking them up in his mind for so long, he had blacked out as soon as that day’s filming was over and woke up to the filming room in shambles and Weasel under him, arms covering his face, covered in bruises and Wade’s own knuckles cracked and bleeding from excessive force.

 

Wade still hadn’t forgiven himself for that. He doubted he ever would.

 

Now, while not going ape shit and destroying everything in sight, sentience be damned, the boxes just reverted back to how they were before the institution, before the medication, back when his schizophrenia was widely unacknowledged and severely under-diagnosed. To when their sole mission was to “protect” him, back when Wade’s paranoia had been at an all-time high and fueling the boxes to eliminate everything that even so much as sent a shiver down his spine.

 

He once punched a mirror when his paranoia convinced him there was a camera behind it.

 

That hadn’t been a good day.

 

Another hand, this one far less smooth and far more masculine, clapped kindheartedly onto his shoulder and shook him slightly, pulling him from his musings.

 

“Come on, Wade, I’m hungry,” Weasel whined, the comforting hand on his shoulder contradicting his impatient tone.

 

Wade blinked up at him, still slightly off-line. He smiled, a tiny thing that was nonetheless as genuine as his big ones, and shook his head to dispel any lingering thoughts. “Yeah, sorry, dude. You know how I get after a long one.” he reasoned. Weasel scoffed with a knowing smirk on his face, unconsciously rubbing at his forearms. That was where Wade had hit him the most, that day he lost control, since he had been aiming for his face. Wade swallowed down the hollow feeling in his throat before clearing it loudly.

 

He stood up, shaking the hands off of him.

 

Vanessa and Weasel were honestly the best people ever. No one was better than them or even came close. They just got him like no one else had, and Wade’s gratitude stretched far above the limits of the stratosphere and exploded into every star and nebula in the cosmos. Wade had no idea what he would do without them.

 

{Probably kill yourself.}

 

“Probably,” he mumbled. He did a full body stretch, groaning in relief as his back finally popped. Vanessa latched onto his arm as soon as it dropped back down to his side.

 

“Alright, dudettes, order in or go out?” Weasel asked. He said it as an open answer question to both of them, but they all knew it was really only to Wade. Whether or not he wanted to stay inside or go outside after an intense episode was a toss up every time, Wade himself only knowing which it would be the moment he made a decision. This one had been pretty bad, though. Not as bad as it could have been, but still. What with the resurgence of the Hello Neighbor memory, the tragic backstory cover, and the recalling of the Weasel incident…

 

“Eh, not really feelin’ crowds at the moment.”

 

Weasel nodded, already going for his phone. “Order in, it is. Usual, right?” Wade’s best friend continued without waiting for an answer. “You got this, right, Wade?”

 

A chuckle scratched its way out of the YouTuber’s throat. That always happened, too - laughing of any kind was a real pain. Weasel always made sure he did it anyway.

 

Wade really, really loved his friends.

 

“Fuck you, Weas. Why don’t you get it for once?”

 

Weasel’s reply came in the form of one single finger pointing straight into the air. Another laugh, this one mildly less painful than the last. Vanessa’s grip tightened as she rested her head on Wade’s shoulder.

 

{That feels…nice.}

 

Wade barely managed to stifle his snort.

 

{What? Don’t laugh at me, fuck-bagel, I’m still reeling from the frankly drastic mood change.}

 

[It’s amazing how pathetic you sound right now.]

 

{Go step on a Lego.}

 

Seems like the boxes are back to normal. Well…you know. As normal as they could get.

 

Vanessa tilted her head up to face him, a dangerous grin playing at her lips. Uh oh.

 

“So…what was that you said about Michelle’s cameraman? That he’s a ‘wet dream come true’?”

 

Fuck his life.

 

A bark of a laugh came from the living room as Weasel shot into a sitting position on the couch, elbows on his knees and smirking face propped up in his hands. “Yeah, _Deadpool_ , tell us more about your little photographer. What was his name? Patrick…no…Penis? Nah…oh! _Peter_ , right?”

 

Seriously, fuck is life, he thought, as Vanessa chimed in the affirmative and they both started ribbing him. But, looking at his two best friends in the whole wide world, he really, really wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

“...ere’s a picture of him.”

 

Wade snapped back to reality {oh, here comes Rabbit, he choked -}. He zeroed in on where Weasel was leaning across the couch, phone outstretched, as he directed V’s gaze to his phone screen.

 

Wade had two options. One: let the two assholes look at [his] baby boy and listen to them coo over his picture while simultaneously making fun of Wade. Two: snatch the phone out of Weas’s hand and make a run for it.

 

{Oh, oh, let’s do the second one so we can lock ourselves in our room and jack off to his picture.}

 

[Wow. Real classy, Yellow.]

 

{Are you saying you _don’t_ want to fantasize about fucking Petey into the mattress?}

 

[...Good point. Grab it.]

 

Wade did, reaching over and snatching it out of his friend’s hands with a triumphant grin. Grin still in place, he sat down in the arm chair.

 

{Aww, what about - spoil sport.}

 

“Shut up, ya nasty,” Wade retorted. He looked down at the phone screen and couldn’t help but smile fondly. It was a picture of Peter (obviously) sitting on a window ledge, one leg bent in front of him while the other stretched above him to rest on the brick window pane across from him. His face was turned towards the camera, a pretty blush stretched across his features to match Peter’s shy but beautiful smile. Peter’s own camera was clutched loosely in his hands, positioned as if he had just finished taking a photo of the outside view.

 

Is was expertly taken, or it had gone though Photoshop, because it was absolutely stunning. Truly breathtaking. A real work of art. And he didn’t just mean the picture quality.

 

Weasel whines in disgruntlement. “Wade, come on,” he groaned. Wade stuck his tongue out at him and flipped him off.

 

Vanessa, in turn, pouted and voiced her agreement. “Yeah, Wade, now I _have_ to see this boy if he can make you look like _that_.”

 

Now, the YouTuber considered giving her the same treatment as Weasel, but decided that he liked his balls right where they were _thank you very much_. Besides, now that he was sitting there, the prime opportunity to gush about quite possibly the most gorgeous piece of ass to ever exist in the history of the world ever practically gifted to him on a silver platter, he just had to take it.Why was he trying to hide his baby boy again?

 

Feeling like there were literal hearts in his eyes, Wade produced such an awe filled sigh that Weasel basically rolled his eyes into the back of his head and Vanessa, ever the romantic, scooted to the very edge of her seat. Wade threw his head back into the plush headrest of the armchair dramatically with a loud groan.

 

“Oh, my God, V, he’s just so _good_ and _pure._ Like, here, look,” he passed the phone over to his ex, ignoring White rant about the needlessness of snatching the device in the first place if he was just going to turn around and show her anyway, “I mean come on. How can one individual be so adorable yet so fucking sexy at the same time? I wanna wrap him up in so many blankets and give him hot cocoa and cuddle him to death but I also wanna tear all those blankets off him and then his clothes and just go to _town,_ yanno?

 

“It’s a serious problem and I haven’t even officially met the guy yet but I will in a few days and what if I screw it up? What if he doesn’t like my videos and in turn doesn’t like me? Oh, Lord, what if he’s a Trump supporter? Probably not, considering that one video where Ned mentioned Trump and he looked absolutely disgusted but I just really want him to do good things with my good things! Is that so wrong?”  

 

Vanessa and Weasel looked like they were a few seconds behind in their mental language processing, so Wade groaned again and flung his hands to his face. “Why does he have to be so fucking perfect???”

 

“Well,” Weasel said, having caught up just enough to validly voice his opinion, “I can honestly say that I wasn’t expecting that. Like, at all. Seriously, took me completely by surprise, and you haven’t been able to do that since that one time with the alpacas-”

 

“What Weasel is trying to say,” Vanessa stressed. She reached over and slapped Weasel in the stomach. Weasel wheezed. “is that we are really happy that someone else other than us can make you this… _happy _,__ I guess. You’re right, he is a cutie, but from the few videos I’ve seen with him in them - _yes, I have actually seen him before stop looking at me like that_ \- I highly doubt he’s a dick that will hate you if you take one wrong step. Or that he’s a Trump supporter.”

 

White was silent, which was surprising but also not all that unexpected, but Yellow chimed in with his regularly scheduled insults that immediately put Wade on edge.

 

{I’m almost twenty thousand percent positive you’re going to screw up so bad that he’ll automatically put you on a blacklist. Or, hey, maybe you won’t even need to **do** anything. Maybe he’ll take one look at your fucked up face and cringe himself to death.}

 

Wade felt himself wince and unconsciously fingered at the thick scars lining the left side of his face. It had been awhile since the boxes had brought it up; it been a long time since _anyone_ had. Most people knew him from YouTube and so were already familiar with them. Others he knew in his personal life had long since gotten used to the half-assed patchwork quilt he called a face. Well, okay, most of them had; Yukio, Wade’s self-proclaimed niece Negasonic’s new girlfriend (say that five times fast), still stared every once and awhile. It wasn’t insulting though. Wade actually thought she looked wondrous most of the time. It was kinda nice, if he was being honest.

 

Still. Wade self-deprecatingly thought it was about time he got back to being self-conscious about his scars considering the lo- _lust of his life_  was (finally) gonna see them in person.

 

{I would suggest we wear a bag over our head. You know, to get our community service hours in.}

 

[Since when do we do community service?]

 

{We fed that stray cat that one time.}

 

[That doesn’t count.]

 

{...you sure?}

 

[Positive.]

 

“I donate to charity all the time. Does _that_ count?” Wade insinuated.

 

“Count as what?” Weasel asked, getting up to go - do something. Wade had no clue.

 

“Community service.”

 

“Uh…I dunno about that one, dude,” he called back. The sound of the door opening and two muffled voices entered Wade’s ears. Oh, the pizza guy must be here.

 

A warm body collapsed on top of Wade, which while surprising was not totally unexpected seeing as how Vanessa had koala bear levels of clingy-ness. Vanessa shifted in his lap, pulling her legs to hang over the armchair and looping her arms around Wade’s chest. “I think it counts,” she mumbled, “I also think Peter is gonna love you. And if he doesn’t, then he has no idea what he’s missin’.”

 

Wade huffed in amusement but frowned right after. “Sure…but what if he gets turned off by my…extremely obvious, well, _mental issues_ ,” he mumbled back.

 

He would never admit it, especially not so soon after an episode, but Wade was afraid. Yeah, sure, he was 6’4 of pure muscle and usually had _at least_  one weapon on his person at all times, but this? Meeting someone he’d had a cyber-boner for since **forever** while having self-destructing voices in his head? Voices that constantly drove him to the point of seriously contemplating putting in an application for the daisy pushing graveyard shift? It was extremely nerve wracking and just plain terrifying.

 

But Peter. Every video he’d been in showed a kind, adorable, cinnamon bun of a man that couldn’t truly hate someone if he tried. He was just so…sweet, so innocent, so _good._ Someone like that couldn’t possibly judge him for his scars. Or over how he was clearly very _…unhinged… ** **right****?_

 

No. Get it together. The collab with Michelle was going to go fantastic because the girl herself was talented as all hell, and Peter…he’d be as angelic as always and everything would be __fine__.    

 

Wade just hoped Peter really _was_ as good as his mind painted him out to be.

 

“What if he doesn’t want to be friends with someone like me?”

 

“Then he isn’t worth the care you so obviously have for him,” she answered.

 

“It’ll be okay Wade. You’ll see.”

 

Wade wanted to believe her. So he did. As much as he could.


	2. #ShowMethePoolRules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Show Wade the Pool Rules or he will notice your Dick instead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It now says it in the tags, but I would just like to clarify that Peter is 18 i this. Wade is 25 (I told someone the wrong age last chapter woops). 
> 
> My sister reminded me of a tie-in I forgot to add from last chapter, so kudos to her, I guess.

Two days later, wedged snugly between the car door and filming equipment shoved carefully in the back of Vanessa’s car, Wade could admit he was nervous. Only to himself, though. His friends were observant bastards, though, so of course they picked up on it and acted accordingly. The beautifully attentive fuckers.

 

Thankfully, his nervousness wasn’t quite bad enough to warrant a full blown panic attack (at least not _yet)._ His anxiety was a steady pulse under his skin, a lurking tiger ready to pounce and devour its prey.

 

[Eh, too badass. I’d say more like a paranoid ostrich ready to stick its head in the sand.]

 

{Or an irritated cat about to beat down the overenthusiastic little shit at a kid’s birthday party.}

 

Fair. Wade personally thought the paranoid ostrich comparison fit better because that’s basically what he _was,_ wasn’t it? A big, clumsy, weird looking bipedal creature that talked too much shit and was punished accordingly. But instead of being cursed with slamming his head repeatedly into the sand, he got voices. Which was debatable on whether or not that was worse. Wade voted yes. The boxes also voted yes, but pointed out that sand was really hard to get out of your naughty bits so would be a pain to deal with. He had to give them that one.

 

“We’re almost there, Wade,” Weasel said. He didn’t say anything else, thankfully. Not that Weasel’s voice was **too** annoying or anything like that; Wade just couldn’t deal with _talking_ right now. Car rides were all fun and games usually, but an anxious Wade was all the more likely to make rash decisions. Decisions that usually ended in everybody being angry at him. Which always led to his anxiety getting way worse and then there was this whole huge spiral water slide that wasn’t fun for anyone involved. Halfway down there stopped being water altogether. Who designed that? Bad water slide.

 

[Wait, did he say we’re almost there?]

 

{Yep. Fuck us with a chainsaw time to put our heads in the damn sand _hup to soldier **hup to!**_ **}**

 

“Oh, God, I’m gonna throw up,” Wade groaned. He leaned forward to hang his head between his knees and cradled his head in his arms. His knees shook no matter how hard he tensed and his heart pounded in his chest as hard as the bass at a rap concert. Not really the perfect ingredients to _calming the fuck down_ , unfortunately.

 

{We’re gonna die. Michelle is gonna hate us, Peter is gonna be disgusted by our everything, and Ned will most _definitely_ deem you unworthy of even _glancing_ at his Lego Death Star. _What the fuck_ now _I’m_  gonna be sick!}

 

A hand suddenly plopped down onto Wade’s arm and squeezed. “Not in this car you’re not,” huffed Weasel’s voice, “Vanessa would kill me.”

 

Wade latched onto those words for dear life.

 

“Why would she kill you? _I’d_ be the one that puked.”

 

Vanessa snorted and shook her head, her pretty black hair shifting to uncover the tiny Deadpool insignia tattoo on the back of her neck. Weasel simply scoffed dramatically. “I’m pretty sure V is just constantly on the ready to hurt me. Remember that one time you scared the shit out of her and she hit ****me**** instead o’ ****you****?”

 

Yeah. That had been funny. Weasel had nursed a bruise the size of Texas on his arm for a whole week after that. Ha. Man. Good times.

 

The memory pulled a chuckle out of Wade and he felt his panic subside slightly. Well, at the very least the boxes weren’t as loud with their air raid sirens and godawful soldier impressions. Hopefully there weren’t any mind readers around because imagine having to explain _that_ to somebody.

 

…Wait.

 

What if there actually _was a mind reader close by that was sneaking around in his head, tearing through his memories trying to find something damming enough to cart him off to the asylum again? It wouldn’t be very hard. There was wayyy too much shit in his past to make it hard. Oh, jeez, what if it’s that Charles guy from that magic YouTube channel? The one that does all the mind tricks?_

 

[He doesn’t even live in the states, doofus.]

 

{You don’t know he didn’t come here on vacation or something!}

 

The all too familiar feeling of trepidation shivered up Wade’s spine. The back of his neck felt too exposed all of a sudden, vulnerable to attack. It would be way too easy for someone to come up behind him and grab his neck.

 

_‘No, wait. It’s okay. You’re in a car - no one is gonna be able to get at your neck while you’re in a car.’_ he thought to himself, aiming to ease his paranoia back down to its usual faint hum under his skin.

 

[But a mind reader could get at your head. Inside it, to be more specific.]

 

…shit.

 

“Hey, guys, quick question: could someone read your mind if you’re in a vehicle? Asking for a friend.”

 

Vanessa’s eyes darted to meet his in the rear-view mirror and her hands convulsed on the steering wheel. Wade immediately knew what she was thinking about all the ways his head could be malfunctioning. She always had a habit of wearing her concern on her sleeve - especially when it came to Wade’s mental disorders. Most of the time Wade was fine with it, needed her comforting hand on his shoulder or her warm body to act as a safe presence to cuddle with when everything got a bit too much.

 

But some times? All it did was make his skin crawl, like she thought he was going to completely lose it at any moment unless she showered him in love and affection. Like he couldn’t handle anything on his own, not even just telling the boxes to chill out for a second. He appreciated her, he really did, but there were times when she was just…overbearing. Over-reactive. Right now, for instance: all he did was ask a question and she’s up there having a worry-seizure.

 

Weasel, however, almost always took it in stride; he was exceptionally well at answering Wade’s obviously-paranoid questions without making a big deal out of it. Without making Wade feel like a child incapable of taking care of himself. Or like a white Disney princess who needed a big, strong man to save them. Honestly, it was kind of fitting that the crazy guy with the polar opposite voices in his head had two best friends on either side of the care spectrum.

 

Hell, maybe Weasel and Vanessa were just figments of his imagination he created to help him deal with -

 

No.

 

Not going there.

 

Bad Deadpool.  

 

“You know what?,” Weasel decided, “I used to think so, but now I’m pretty sure it’s a hardcore _fuck_ no. What with all the electrical pulses and mechanical shit. All of that stuff would make the vehicle some type of impenetrable telepathic bubble thing protecting the people inside.” Weasel paused, thinking, before he added, “Trust me. I’m a huge science _and_ pseudoscience nerd. Pretty sure that makes me a verified source of information or something, I don’t fuckin’ know, the point is that no they can’t read your mind here.”

 

Alright. Okay. That made…sense?

 

[Not really.]

 

{It did, kind of. There’s probably a lot of technical terminology bullshit to explain it more, but it seemed pretty solid - oh wait what about the exhaust pipe -!}

 

A loud __‘_ fucking **shit’**_ from the front seats jerked him out of his head. “Whatwhat happened,” Wade demanded. One of his hands had already flown to grip the knife he kept in his shoe when Vanessa answered.

 

“We’re here! And she has a pool!”

 

…

 

_Seriously?_

 

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Wade shouted, “‘cause that is **so damn cool.** Note to self: ask if we can take a dip after we’ve known them for an extended period of time.”

 

[Done.]

 

“Oh, man, _I’ll_ remind you. I feel like Satan himself just rubbed his balls all over my body then threw me into a lake a’ lava. I’d _love_ to take a dip.”

 

Vanessa scrunched up her nose at Weasel as she pulled into the paved driveway. The house itself was two stories high with what looked like plenty of space to run around in and just have a shit ton of fun in general. It wasn’t _big_ big, just slightly bigger than average. It kind of looked like a home owned by a rich suburban family, only without the gazillion toys in the front yard or the angry soccer mom herding her snot-nosed kids into her shiny new SUV complete with remote controlled air conditioning and individual TV screens for the whole family.

 

Was that insulting?

 

{Probably. Who cares?}

 

The car slowed to a stop. Keys turned in the ignition and the gentle purr of the engine disappeared, leaving a void of nothingness in its wake.

 

{Oh, my God. _‘Dear Diary, mood: apathetic-’_ }   

 

“Oh, go fuck yourself with something hard and sandpaper-y.”

 

It hit Wade then that this was it. This was the moment he’d been anticipating and dreading ever since Michelle reached out to him seeking a collab. He was here, at MJDoodle’s house, about to film a video. A video that was gonna be filmed by Peter Parker. Hands down the most cinnamon-y _sin-namon_ roll to ever cinnam!

 

_Fuck._

 

“You got this,” Wade reassured himself. Taking one last gulp of air, he unbuckled his seat belt and exited the car.

 

…

 

“You don’t got this _abort mission abort abort_.”

 

Wade made a lunge back into the car, but his plan was thwarted at the last minute by his traitor of a best friend latching onto his waist and yanking him back out onto the pavement.

 

“Nu uh, no way, dude. There is no fucking way we came all this way just for you to go chicken shit in the driveway.” Weasel growled.

 

Internally, Wade knew Weasel was right. The drive between Wade’s house and Michelle’s wasn’t that far, but it was still _a drive._ Gas wasn’t cheap and they’d used quite a bit to get there.

 

But his head.

 

But ****Peter****.

 

“But-but-” Wade stammered, desperately trying (and failing) to think of an excuse, “umm, I just - remembered that I need to go…shuck some _…corn…?”_

 

Weasel rolled his eyes for what felt like the twentieth time in ten minutes. “Yeah, uh huh, nice try, fuck face. Look, Vanessa’s already at the door, so get a move on. I’m right behind you.”

 

Asshole. Didn’t he get his plight? First there was the whole _oh Lord I’m gonna be doing a collab for the first time in Bea Arthur knows how long_ , then there was the _Peter is gonna be there lookin’ like an angel shit fuck_ fiasco, and then all of a sudden there were **mind readers**  and **Charles Xavier: Mind Freak Edition**  and _**Wade had a right to be freaked out, okay?**_

 

Even if the mind reader thing was only an object of his paranoia. And the ProfessorX thing. It was still real to him.

 

“Jackass,” was all he uttered as a retort. Weasel just snorted and nudged him forward.

 

Okay. He could do this.

 

The walk from the car to the house’s front door seemed a mile long. Wade swallowed down his panic, steeling himself, when out of the corner of his eyes he glimpsed the tell-tale flash of a camera lens peering out the front window.

 

Wade halted mid step to stare, schooling his features until he just looked caught off guard rather than like he just shit his pants. He blinked, ever a fan of that particular comedic move, and slowly raised his hand to wave stiffly at the person filming him.

 

Weasel had this stupidly confused look on his face before he, too, saw the camera. Once he did he glanced back at Wade, _back to the camera, back to Wade,_ then finally looked into the camera like he was on the Office while pushing Wade’s back to make him fall forward into his next step.

 

The camera shook behind the glass like the person was laughing. Heh, it was actually really adorable and _oh, my God, that was Peter, wasn’t it?_   

 

Wade snapped his face forward knowing his burning cheeks were bright red. For the first time in __ever__ he was incredibly thankful it was his scarred cheek facing the camera and not his good side.

 

“That was Peter. Oh _fuck,_ that was Petey-pie. Weas, I’m gonna die _what the fuck_ -”

 

Weasel gripped Wade’s shoulder tightly and cast him a serious expression. “Wade,” he started, the earnest look in his eyes forcing Wade’s head to chill out, “It may not seem like it, but I am almost positive that boy is just as nervous as you are. I did some research of my own on him after we filmed the last video and he is nowhere __near__ scary enough to warrant you flipping out. I know it’s your anxiety, but be logical about this. And think on the bright side: you’re finally meeting the guy you’ve been jerking off to - _yes I know about that. You can’t hide anything from me.”_

 

Wade’s mouth snapped shut. Fucker.

 

“You’re gonna be awesome, Wade. Now get it together before you embarrass me in front of the wizards.”

 

Wade blinked. “…Wizards?”

 

Weasel shrugged. “I _refuse_ to believe someone can be that good at art without some kind of supernatural element involved. So yeah. Wizards.”

 

One last reassuring clap on the shoulder and Weasel stepped away just as the door opened.

 

Man. Wade loved Weasel so much. Such a good bro.

 

{Yeah, but looklooklook in the doorway}

 

[...woah.]    

__

Wade smiled to himself and turned to the now-open doorway, mouth already open in greeting, when what he was seeing caught up to him and his grin froze on his face.

 

In the movies, the moment when someone meets the love of their life makes time stop. In that moment, it’s just them, staring at each other, shy smiles curving at their lips and bright eyes gazing into each other as if there was no better past time in the world. No one else appeared to exist, all side conversations stopped, the only noise besides the two of them some romantic ballad highlighting how fucking beautiful they thought the other was.

 

Wade found that it wasn’t like that in real life.

 

Time didn’t stop.

 

Weasel and Vanessa were still an obvious presence around him, greeting Peter and Michelle, who stood next to him.

 

Wade’s eyes met Peter’s, but Peter’s didn’t meet Wade’s. Those big, beautiful brown eyes remained firmly on the camera screen, and his gorgeous smile wasn’t shy but filled with amusement and shone with mirth.

 

Michelle was hugging Vanessa and shaking hands with Weasel, and Peter waved at them cutely. The sound of cars passing by was loud in Wade’s ears, familiar voices threading prominently into his consciousness.

 

There was music, sure, but _Bulletproof Heart_ by MCR barely counted as a romantic ballad.

 

The only real thing the movies show was that, without a doubt, Peter was by far the most beautiful thing Wade had ever seen.

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Wade,” Michelle greeted. Wade managed to drag his eyes away from Peter just in time to seem normal and smiled at her, clasping his hand over her much smaller one.

 

“Hey! Awesome to see you. What are the guidelines to swimming in your pool?”

 

[What ever happened to ‘when we get to know them better?’]

 

Wade had to clench his teeth together hard enough they creaked in order to stop himself from answering. He had no idea how much Peter, Ned, or Michelle knew about his condition; he didn’t want to completely ruin their friendship before it even started because he started talking to something that wasn’t actually there. Even if they _did_ know about the boxes, Wade didn’t want their first impression of him tainted by his disorder.

 

Weasel face-palmed and groaned loud enough Wade could have sworn he heard Bigfoot. _“Dude.”_

 

“What? It’s common courtesy to ask before fucking with other people’s stuff. Get with the program, Weas.” Wade scoffed. Peter chuckled with a shake of his head and wasn’t _that_ the sweetest sound Wade had ever heard.

 

[Wow, you are _really_ aiming for ‘Creepiest Mofo of the Year,’ aren’t you?]

 

{Not _creepiest,_ no. Maybe **most desperate** , or **pathetically infatuated homo** , but not **creepiest.}**

 

A retort snarled testily right on the tip of his tongue, but Wade was determined for it to stay there. He stabbed that snake directly through the snout and pinned it there. He kept his mouth firmly shut.

 

Good Deadpool.

 

Michelle, thankfully, not only looked amused, but like she was extremely glad she’d decided to collab with him. Which was weird, but who was Wade to complain? Maybe obnoxious,uncoordinated chaos was her thing? Either way, he updated his mental tally board: Point 1 to Deadpool, Point ??? to MJDoodles.

 

“As long as you don’t jump in butt ass naked, we’re good,” she answered. She stepped back and turned to stare imploringly at Peter, getting a thumbs up from him {Ooo behind the scenes action. Nice.} [shut up], before she dropped her gaze to look into the camera with a pleased grin. And just like that, the boxes cursing in agitation as their voices became more and more muffled as they fell into nothingness, his brain kick started out of habit and he slid easily into his YouTuber head space.

 

Hopefully he’d be able to warn the others about his inevitable breakdown later before they witnessed it first hand. Come to think of it, Wade probably should have already talked that over with Michelle before he even made the trip over. Why hadn’t he done that again? A vision of his own face reflected on his laptop screen popped into his mind, as well as his own voice saying __‘_ Eh, I’ll do it later.’ _

 

Wow. He was _really bad_ at talking to people, wasn’t he?

 

Wade wasn’t proud of it and would probably come to regret it, but without even meaning to he tuned out Michelle’s address to her viewers and placed his full attention on Peter instead.

 

With his front row seat to everything Peter Parker, he noticed a lot of little quirks the cameraman had that were impossible to see through Michelle’s videos. Peter had a habit of squinting his eyes at the camera screen when something didn’t look quite right, his cute little head tilts and mild readjustments to the camera angle evidencing his need for perfection. He licked his lips a lot, half of the time scraping his bottom lip with his teeth right after in what would have seemed like a nervous gesture if he didn’t appear so in his element.

 

His ears picked up on Michelle explaining that Ned was gonna show up later, but while he subconsciously filed that information away for later, he would much rather keep staring at Peter than think about Ned.

 

But _man_ did he want to see Ned’s replica collection _so fucking bad_.

 

“...ade, you wanna add anything? Any hint as to what’s in store for us today?” 

 

Right. Video.

 

Wade immediately plastered a charming grin onto his face as the camera focused back on him. Peter’s jaw clenched and he inhaled slowly, like he was trying to calm himself down. A wave of self-loathing crashed within Wade’s chest, but he kept his appearance in check. Of course Peter was unnerved by his face; everyone was. Wade suspected that while the camera-cutie had looked unaffected before, seeing his scars twisted and warped by his smile was probably a bit too much for him.

 

Oh, well. Wade had long since gotten used to the familiar feeling of disappointment.

 

If Wade hadn’t been in his head space, he knew for a **fact** that the voices would have chimed in with a barrage of insults toward him, mocking him for his wishful thinking that Peter wouldn’t care about his scars, but he **was,** so they didn’t. It was better that way. The boxes would have made his mask slip on camera.  

 

He was about to answer when something gleamed softly to his right and he looked over, curious.

 

Holy shit. New plan.

 

He quirked a brow.

 

“So I was going to say something ominous or some shit like that, but I’m more inclined to ask about the giant dick painting hanging in your living room.”  

 

Weasel choked on his own spit and burst into a coughing fit, dying, before a smirking Vanessa started pounding on his back perhaps a bit __too__ roughly in an attempt to ‘help’ him. Peter was shaking with barely restrained laughter _which was fucking adorable_. Michelle smirked mischievously and shrugged.

 

“Ned bet I wouldn’t have the balls to hang a nude portrait on my wall. So, naturally, I painted a pair of big ones instead and hung it up to constantly remind him of his failure.”

 

Holy shit that was so badass. This collab was gonna be _awesome._

 

“Okay, that is a _total_ fucking power move. I love it. This is gonna be the best day.” Wade squealed. Weasel, done with his fit, heaved and rubbed his back with a wince.

 

_“Jesus,_ woman, what are your hands made out of, metal?” he complained. Vanessa smiled innocently with a shrug, but didn’t respond. Instead, she twirled away from a disgruntled Weasel and hugged one of Wade’s arms.

 

Peter started fiddling with his camera.     

 

Vanessa pressed her face into his shoulder and Wade bent down almost immediately to rest his head on hers. It was obvious she wanted to tell him something _hush hush_ so he tried to make it as easy on her as possible. She whispered, “We should get started soon. The less time the boxes are away, the better.”

 

Wade sucked in a breath. Right, yeah; they _really_ needed to start filming the actual video now. Vanessa was right; they were on a mental time limit here, and the less time the boxes were in the Void, the better the after effects would be.

 

He should probably tell Michelle about that. Dammit.

 

Patient as Wade could be, he waited until MJ wrapped up her intro to speak. He opened his mouth, words right there ready to be heard, when Peter turned to him with a damn beautifully shy smile on his face. Wade forgot what he was going to say.

 

What a cliche.

 

Oh hey, that rhymed! Buy Wade’s new rap album at www.-

 

“Hey, could I talk to you for a second?” Peter asked.

 

Um. Okay.

 

Hold up.

 

Wade was going to fucking _sue._

 

**No one**  but tiny innocent children had the right to _sound_ cute. Adults didn’t sound like sweet cotton candy on a sugar stick, they sounded like emotionally dead workaholics, for taco’s sake! But, _of course,_ Peter sounded like a sweet and tiny Easter rabbit in person. Of fucking course he did. This was absolute bullshit -

 

Vanessa pinched his arm and Wade flinched violently. Peter was hitting him with an expectant look, camera clutched in his hands.

 

How long had Wade been standing there, silent, ranting inwardly about cute boys and the Easter bunny? Long enough, he supposed.

 

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he forced out.

 

Peter’s grin widened and he did this awkward little half spin thing, jerking his chin over to a secluded section of the living room. “We can talk over here.” His eyes darted over to Vanessa before he dropped them, scuffing his feet on the floor. “I’d prefer it just be us two, if that’s okay?”

 

_Down,_ Wade Jr. _Down,_ boy. Just because it sounded like the beginning of a wet fantasy in real life didn’t mean it was. Get it together. Especially given how Peter reacted to his smiling scar face. Wade didn’t think he was gonna forget that anytime soon.

 

Vanessa tensed up for a split second before she relaxed with a grin, unhooking her arm from Wade’s and nodding. “I’ll go talk to Weasel. Call if you need me.” After tossing a sneaky wink at Wade and a searching look towards Peter, she walked off to join Weasel and Michelle by the armchair.

 

Wade watched her go, his anxiety prickling up under his skin. God, what was the universe _doing,_ giving him a chance to royally screw things up with Peter with his shit personality? His face already waved a non-platonic relationship goodbye, and now the mystical being Mother _Fucker_ wanted his _him_ to mess up everything else?

 

Peter licked his lips and with one final jerk of his head led Wade over to the other side of the room. He stopped there and took a deep breath, which Wade instantly recognized as a breathing exercise. Peter looked up at him, and Wade realized that the other man was just short enough that Peter had to stretch his neck back until his head tilted up just so he could properly see Wade’s face.

 

It was so cute. Wade thought he was going to vomit.

 

“Okay, so here’s the thing,” Peter explained, hands clapping together in front of him, “I’ve done a lot of research about, well, **you,** and stop me if I’m being too insensitive, but you have _…voices…_ right?"

__

Oh. It was one of _those_ talks.

__

Dread coiling low in his belly, he nodded.

 

Wade should be used to this. He should be used to the uneasy glances, the hesitant questions, the awkward silences.He should be used to being treated differently because of his schizophrenia, the boxes, his random thoughts and paranoid mannerisms.

 

Wade should be used to it.

 

But he wasn’t. He didn’t think he ever would.   

 

Yet Peter didn’t look like any of that. Peter was hesitant, yes, but he looked more nervous than on edge, was very much awkward but in a more internal way than external. He sounded sincere in his words and like was trying not to be ‘too insensitive,’ unlike a lot of the people Wade explained himself to in the past. Maybe this was a… _good_ talk?

 

Huh. Just _thinking_ that made Wade confused.

 

Peter licked his lips again (it was also a nervous tick, then…interesting) and took another breath.

 

Wade prepared himself. Brace for impact -

 

“Okay. Well, in one of your Q&A videos you said something about the-the boxes getting antsy when you film for too long? So, I was thinking that we could do your video first, then MJ and I can clear out if you want us to when the boxes come back. Just so you don’t feel weird or something. And then we can go do MJ’s video when you feel up to it. Is that…okay?

 

Wade stared.

 

Peter gulped nervously.

 

“I’m sorry if I was insensitive, it’s just that when I was younger and something - happened to me, no one knew how to handle my new little quirks and stuff, or knew what to do when I had an…episode, I guess. And it sucked a lot, so I don’t want to put someone else through that. I’m really sorry if I insulted you.”

 

It was in that moment that Wade realized he _had_ to be dreaming.

 

He couldn’t really be at Michelle’s place. He was probably still at home, in his bed, snoring like a chainsaw and drooling all over his pillows. There was no _way_ Peter was this good and pure in real life.

 

Wade was gonna **die.**

 

Still staring blankly at Peter, Wade reached up slowly and pinched his own arm hard. He hissed at the acute pain and closed his eyes. One, two, three. He opened them. Peter was still there, looking a little confused but also patient.

 

Wade cleared his throat. “Is this real life?”

 

That pulled a surprised laugh out of Peter and his smile grew wider. He nodded with a soft giggle.

 

Wade sighed. “Okay, because that was not at _all_ insensitive to me and I kinda wanna hug you right now. Like, really bad. How are you so cute? I don’t understand.”

 

A healthy flush bloomed across Peter’s lightly tanned cheeks and he ducked his head in shy embarrassment.

 

Wade kept talking, the shock in his system wearing off until it was replaced with awed excitement.

 

“That actually sounds awesome! Man, I had just been about to tell you guys about the whole _Long Filming Time + Wade in Head Space = **Angry Boxes**_  thing when you pulled me over here. _Man._ It probably would’ve been awful, too. I think I would have cried a little, honestly. Definitely would have dissociated hardcore. Are you a mind reader? We were actually just talking about that on the ride up. Do you think ProfessorX is a telepath?”

 

To his credit, Peter looked like he was doing his best to keep up with Wade, but it was obvious he was struggling a little bit. Wade could tell by the slightly squinted eyes, the polite nods, but especially by the way his eyes lit up when he heard the question and latched onto it with both hands. That also let Wade know he was really trying to understand, at least. It helped dim his self-consciousness a little.

 

Peter hummed and crossed his arms thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” he reasoned, “His username is _ProfessorX;_ that just sounds _way_ too much like a superhero name to _not_ mean something.”

 

_Holy Mary Mother of Mexico_  Peter was _right._ Wade gasped and dramatically smacked his hands to his cheeks. This was so much deeper than Wade thought. “It _does,_ doesn’t it? I think we just discovered a conspiracy, baby boy. I should make a video!”

__

Peter froze and Wade unconsciously mimicked him, and his eyes widened when it registered what exactly he’d just said to make Peter react like that. Peter looked off to the side a bit, shoulders suddenly a little tense, as his eyes dropped to the floor. “Should you really be calling me that?” he muttered, “I mean, with Vanessa and all?”

 

Hmm?

 

“What do you mean?” Wade asked hesitantly.

 

Peter shuffled. He did that quite a lot, Wade noticed. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

 

“You two are - a thing, right? I know you used to be and then you - but you seemed really close a second ago…”

 

…oh.

 

_Oh._  

 

Oh?

 

“V and I aren’t dating,” Wade clarified. He ignored the hopeful twinge in his chest as to why exactly Peter seemed to care so much, but chalked it up to Peter being a decent human being who respected relationships. “Yeah, we _used_ to - _how do you know that by the way?_  - but…not anymore. She’s still my bro, though.”

 

It was hard to tell what Peter was thinking. “So…you guys aren’t dating?”

 

“Nope,” Wade popped, “We are both very much single.”

 

Peter nodded, tension slowly slipping from his shoulders and his gorgeous smile returning to grace Wade with its very existence. “Okay, that’s - okay.”

 

Wade tilted his head. He had to admit that no matter how much he like the man, it was kind of..weird. How Peter seemed so interested in him and V’s relationship status. It was almost like…

 

“Do you have a crush on Vanessa?”

 

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth Wade knew he was wrong when Peter chocked on his own spit, looking horrified.

 

“No! No, no, no, no, I was just - curious! _Yeah,_ I was just curious because I watch your videos a lot and there’s this whole debate on whether or not you and her are gonna get back together and I was just…curious.”

 

Wait. Pause. Rewind. Hold the motherfucking phone.

 

“You watch my videos?”

 

__‘_ I’m pretty sure I dreamed him up in a wet dream I had and he came to life by the power of my Thirst ™.’_

__

If Peter watched his videos, that means he **heard.** He _saw_ my **_thirst_**.

 

_AGSCJlsdbvhkcxvcaxhjhxs_

 

Apparently Wade looking shook as all fuck was enough to break Peter out of his self-conscious huddle because he unfurled himself just enough to peer up at Wade, brown eyes shining through his thick, long eyelashes. Wade was _weak._   

 

“Uh, yeah?” Peter said, “You’re one of my favorite YouTubers. Honestly, I’ve kind of been freaking out, like, this whole entire time.”

 

That’s it. Call the hearse driver because Wade was late to his own fucking funeral.

 

He was about to respond with something probably extremely embarrassing and unmanly as all hell when Peter exclaimed, “So! Everything’s worked out. How about we start filming? How much time do you think we have until we started heading into the danger zone?”

 

Wade grimaced. “I’d say about, uh…twenty more minutes?”

 

Peter sucked in a breath and winced. “Oof. We better get started then, huh?”

 

Weasel and Wade had to go back out to the car to grab their filming equipment since Weas _forgot_ it earlier (“Don’t you _start_ with me, Wade, I was _way_ too busy tryin’ a drag your ass outta the car to worry about the damn cameras.”), and after Peter insisted on helping they got everything in the house in about seven minutes (Wade timed it) (but not really). Pretty soon after that they had it all set up and were ready to rock and roll.

 

Wade stood to the side of the couch and bit at his lip thoughtfully as he planned the video. He already knew what the actual video was gonna be; art-offs between actual artists and bumbling morons were always funny, and Wade wanted to participate in one _at least_ once in his life before he dies at the ripe old age of 27, COD: probably weapons (written with at least three question marks behind it). So he thought right now would be the best possible opportunity to fulfill that dream.

 

The clock in his head dinged that it was _time to fuckin’ go_  o’clock.

 

Ah, well. Planning ahead was for wusses anyway. Guess he’d just wing it.

 

“MJ, wait over there, okay?” He pointed to the floor about a foot away from the couch, where they were going to shoot the video.

 

He got the affirmative in the form of a slender middle finger sticking up at him.

 

Wade decided once and for all that he _really_ liked her.

 

Okay. Take a deep breath in out  in  out

 

Alright. Let’s do this.

 

“Rolling?”

 

Weasel gave him the thumbs up.

 

With one last shaky breath and a furtive glance towards Peter, Wade threw on his trademark charming grin and started the video.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of gushing over Peter in this chapter, but that's because Wade is meeting him for the first time and so is overwhelmed by The Cute. It's not gonna be like this throughout the story. 
> 
> If you guys want a detailed description on what exactly Wade does on his channel, let me know and I'll make it happen.


	3. There's a Knife in my Boot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do NOT let Wade within speaking distance of a Cute Boy because he will flirt with them .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to do this last chapter but thank you guys so much for all your love and support! It makes me feel good in the Feels and I appreciate every single one of you~ 
> 
> This one was a lot harder to write for some reason, but it's (barely) the longest chapter so far which isn't saying much but there it is i guess. Think of it as a really crappy apology. 
> 
> Side Note: do you guys like how I use italics, bold, and underline in this story? It takes A LOT of work to go back through and add them back in on this site once I try to post it, so if you guys don't like it I'm gonna stop bothering with it. 
> 
> Enjoy~

Wade dragged his feet solemnly over to the couch, face set in a tired half-smile as he sat heavily onto the cushions. He sighed deep in his chest and propped his elbows on top of his spread knees, forearms hanging loosely between his legs, and looked into the camera with droopy eyes.

 

He saw Michelle and Peter exchange confused glances at the drastic shift in mood but Wade kept his gaze firmly on the camera. Every one of his videos had different intros that were always a joyto film, and usually they had no correlation to the actual content whatsoever. It just made everything a lot more organic, less scripted. More like an actual conversation with multiple topics and mood changes than a planned speech with one long-ass, boring as fuck tone.

 

_Also_ Wade just did whatever he thought would be funny in the moment.

 

Like he said. Planning was for wusses.

 

Wade lifted one of his hands, slow and serious, and waved a single time at what would be the audience as he said, “… _hey, what’s up you guys _.__ ”

 

And just like that, the somber mood turned on its head. Weasel nearly threw the camera on the ground as he started threatening him with shutting the camera off and leaving, which Wade thought was _hilarious_ and laughed through the entirety of. Vanessa was smiling, but in that polite way that meant she didn’t actually get it. Wade wasn’t surprised she didn’t get the reference; Vanessa was more into beautubers and drama channels than anything.

 

Wade actually really enjoyed watching drama videos with her; it was the only type of tea either of them could stomach, so they took full advantage of it. The beauty community of YouTube was a fucking minefield of ‘he said she said’ bullshit. And with all that recent drama with the Irrelevant Three, Jeffree Star, and Gabriel Zamora? That tea was _piping_ hot. _Constant_ refills all around.  

 

Peter was shaking with laughter, and the incredulous expression on his face was more than enough validation for Wade. Sure, Weasel was acting like he hated him, Vanessa was confused, and Michelle was treating the window like it was a camera on The Office, but _Peter_ liked his joke. That was a success in Wade’s book.

 

“Did-did you just _Shane Dawson us_?” Peter exclaimed.

 

“ _Yes he did,_  that _fucker._ I swear to all that is good and _holy_ that I will _leave_ if you pull that shit again.”

 

Wade scoffed. Weasel was so full of shit. “Yeah, whatever,” he jeered, “Just like when you _swore_ you’d quit after I compared you to that artist’s realistic drawing of what Doris and Prince Charming’s love child would look like?”

 

Vanessa, always ready to squash Weasel’s ego, chimed in, “Or that _other_ time you threatened to leave when Wade decided to speak like Yoda for the whole video?”

 

Michelle snorted from her position beside the couch and Wade jokingly groaned as loud as he could. She gave away her position, dammit! _“Well,_ ladies, gents, and Tolkien’s mystical Ents, I was _going_ to introduce her in a _super fucking awesome_  way but she _blew_ it, guys, blew it straight outta the toaster.”

 

He flung his arm out and pointed dramatically at the cushion beside him. “You can go ahead and sit down, I guess,” Wade pouted. Michelle barked a laugh and plopped down on the couch, her legs splayed out comfortably with her arms spread out along the back of the couch.

 

She stared at Wade silently for a second before she nodded her head up in greeting. “Sup?” she said.

 

Wade broke out into chuckles.

 

“Oh, man, sorry, Weas,” he apologized. Weasel flipped him off in front of the camera. Wade cleared his throat and started again.

 

“I’m only joking guys. I’m sure you guys know who this is since I literally talked about her in my last video - _come on, keep up_ \- so you guys should already know who’s here with me. It’s MJDoodles!” Michelle waved to the camera then stuck up her middle finger. Wade quirked a brow.

 

“Well, as you guys can see, she obviously fits in with the cr _an_ ky crew -” Weasel sucked his teeth behind the camera “ - so that’s good. So does her cameraman, Peter! Say hi, Petey!”

 

Weasel swiveled the camera over to Peter, who looked like an adorable, fluffy baby deer caught in headlights. He grinned shyly at the camera and waved. “Uh, hi?”

 

Wade felt his heart melt.

 

It took Wade a few seconds to realize the camera was pointed at him again, but when he did he coughed against the side of his fist and smiled disarmingly to the audience.

 

“Isn’t he adorable? Anyway! We’re here at Michelle’s house which I _love_ because - Weasel come with me -” Wade got up and, after motioning for Michelle to stay put, walked back over to the main entrance “ - just _look at this_. There’s a _dick painting_. Truly the pinnacle of art on Earth as we know it.”

 

Weasel zoomed in on The Dick with a silent cackle.

 

Michelle called from the couch, “Thanks, but, uh, what do you mean _on Earth_?”

 

Wade barely restrained himself from jumping up and down while clapping like a twelve year old girl at a Justin Beiber concert. He **loved** when people asked that question.

 

He spun towards Michelle with flourish, one of his hands forming a circle over his eye while the other clutched onto the handle of his imaginary cane.

 

“I’m so glad you asked,” he crooned with an intentionally bad English accent, “I _mean_ that there could be an alien race out there completely surmised of top-of-the-line Dick Painters.” Wade twisted his head to look at the camera the exact moment Weasel zoomed in on his face. God, Wade loved how in-sync they were. Very _my best friend is better then yours_ esque.   

 

“ _The Dick Painters: Extraterrestrial Artists,_ an all new conspiracy theory coming to an @ Deadpool playlist near you.”  

 

Peter snorted somewhere behind him. __Success__.

 

Vanessa, on the other hand…

 

“I hate this,” she deadpanned.

 

“That’s just because you hate dick,” Wade immediately retorted.

 

Vanessa stared at him blankly. “I dated _you,_ Wade.”

 

“Yeah, well I’ll have you know that I don’t _have_ a dick. According to the multitudes of fanfiction I’ve read about myself, I _in fact_ have a _pleasure center_ , a pleasure _rod,_ if you will.”

 

Weasel gagged behind the camera. “Ew. Ew, ew, ew. Eeeewwww.”

 

Vanessa looked like she was this close to calling the whole conversation off to go laugh in a corner, but she instead rolled her eyes and stated, “I was aiming more along the lines that you _yourself_ are a giant dick.”

 

Okay true.

 

“Fair,” he said aloud.

 

“We should actually get to the **good** content now,” Weasel butted in with a tut. From his words it just sounded like he was over the whole dick topic, but the look he tossed Wade made it abundantly clear he was worried about the time limit.  

 

Oh. Right. Yeah.

 

**“Fuck,** yeah. Time limit.” Wade clapped his hands together loudly then skipped back over to the couch and threw himself onto it. He turned back to Weasel who was still by the painting and called over, “Come on, Weas, stop goofin’ around with The Dick, we got a video to make.”

 

Weasel flipped him off again and as soon as he was once again stationed in front of the couch, camera reattached to the tripod, Wade picked up where he left off.

 

“Yeah, this place is **amazing.** Good art, lots of space, friendly people - the only thing that would make things better would be if we had Ned here to show off his replicas.” Wade sighed in disappointment. He was positive Michelle and Peter both thought it was just for show, but Wade was _serious._ Whenever he watched an MJDoodles video, he always payed attention to Ned’s progress on whatever he was building and cheered him on. Most of the time he had to watch the video twice because he was too caught up watching Ned build whatever-the-fuck the first time around. Sometimes he had to go back third time because he noticed something Ned did that he hadn’t caught the first time. It was a whole thing and he didn’t appreciate Michelle and Peter not understanding the _severity_ of his words.

 

“I’m _serious._ I’m **dying** over here. How does he have the patience to put all those Legos together into one giant Lego Thingy ™ because I tried once and I got maybe two minutes in before I called it quits. Vanessa remembers!”

 

An amused grin spread across Vanessa’s face as she recalled the time when Wade, in a fit of boredom, had bought a 1000+ Lego Krusty Krab Set only to leave it in pieces on the dining room table once it started to get just the slightest bit difficult. Meaning, once all the ground legos were down.

 

Wade _really_ didn’t have the patience to do time-consuming things. At least, not ones where he wasn’t constantly _moving._

 

“You just can’t sit still for that long,” she comforted.

 

“Yeah, and Ned is an absolute _legend_ for being able to. Note to self: ask Ned for tips on patience when you get to know him better.”

 

Weasel cut in, “Hey, yeah, didn’t you say almost that _exact_ same thing about the pool and then asked _literally_ two seconds later?”

 

Wade shushed him.

 

“Anyway,” Wade stressed, “I’ve been sidetracked way too much today **alone** and I am on a mental time limit right now, so how about we get into the video in three, two -”

 

With a whoosh sound effect and the wave of his arm, they finally got to the main content of the video.

 

Wade decided he needed to look up a YouTube video on how to get side-tracked less often. Or he could just ask Peter; he seemed to have his life together…Wait, no, that was too scary. YouTube it was.

 

“Vanessa!” Wade declared as he pointed at her, “Bring in the supplies!”

 

Vanessa got up and moved over to one of their supply bags and unzipped it, pulling out two foot long square pieces of plywood.

 

“So here’s what’s gonna happen,” Wade started to explain as Vanessa laid the wood down on the table, one in front of Wade and the other in front of Michelle. Michelle looked apprehensive but also intrigued as she reached out to run her fingers over the sanded-down surface of her ‘canvas.’

 

“It’s an art-off, which while _totally_ unoriginal and probably boring for you, is something I’ve been wanting to do ever since I saw that Bucky guy completely fail against Stevie Wonder Boy.”

 

Michelle’s eyes lit up in recognition and she laughed. “I remember that!” she gushed, “They were supposed to draw a monkey and Bucky’s turned out looking like a really bad Mickey Mouse!”

 

“Yeah!” Wade agreed, “That’s the one!”

 

Weasel threw him another look and Wade cleared his throat. “So that’s what we’re doing. We have three minutes to create the most detailed lookin’ tree we can. Get it? ‘Cause it’s wood?”

 

Peter chuckled. What a sweetie, laughing at something even though it wasn’t funny. Amazing.

 

“Why wood? Why not a piece of paper or something?” Michelle asked.

 

Wade shrugged. “You can do more with a block of wood then you can paper,” he explained, “Like, on paper you can only use pencils and stuff, but on wood you can use pretty much anything you want. Gives you more choice.”

 

Michelle nodded along like that messy explanation actually made sense. “Can I use a pencil?” she asked.

 

“You can use whatever the fuck you want,” Wade answered. He sure was going to.

 

Pretty soon, Michelle was armed with her pencil, and it was time to start the match.

 

“Alright, everybody! It’s time for the big royàle! Everybody ready to start?”

 

Peter’s gaze shifted to Wade, this adorable scrunched up expression on his face, and raised his hand like a schoolboy. “Wait. Waitwaitwait. Michelle’s using a pencil, but what are you using, Wade? You don’t have anything out.”

 

Oh, damn. What a beautiful, amazing, adorable, _observant_ little motherfucker. Well, there went his comedic shock factor reveal. Oh well.

 

Wade threw a wink towards Peter, who blushed slightly. Aw, what a cutie. “Don’t worry about me, Petey. I’ve got just the thing.” He cracked his knuckles, less out of meaning and more out of habit, then reached into his boot and pulled his knife out.

 

As soon as Weasel saw it, he looked, for lack of a better phrase, like he was completely done with Wade’s shit.

 

“Wade, what the _fuck?”_ he exclaimed.

 

Wade raised an eyebrow. Why was Weasel surprised? He’d known him for like fifty years, he _knew_ Wade kept a knife on him at all times. It was impossible to tell when you’d get into a situation where a knife was needed, and Wade’s paranoia screamed at him whenever he walked into his own _lawn_ without it, much less **someone else’s house**  in an _**entirely different neighborhood.**_

 

But he didn’t say any of that. Instead, he went for the funny, quirky video content. He’d pull Weasel aside to talk about it after. Maybe. Depended on how bad the mental fallout was. The boxes had never come back from the Void somewhere that wasn’t Wade’s house; he had no idea how they would react. But Wade had a video to film and expectations to meet, so how about he get to that funny, quirky comeback?

 

“In my defense, I never actually specified what tools we had to use. So, _technically,_ using knives is well within the bounds of the rules.”

 

Weasel’s expression didn’t change. “Again. What the _fuck,_ Wade?”

 

Peter, the blessed angel that he was, decided in that moment to step in. “You made it unspecific _just_ so you could bring a knife, didn’t you?” he inferred, pink lips curing into an amused half-smile.

 

A smile of his own graced Wade’s face, this one far more genuine than the larger than life ones he regularly put on for the cameras. The memory of Peter losing his composure over its grotesqueness earlier flashed across his mind but he ignored it. They were filming; now wasn’t the time to let his insecurities show. That could be saved for later, in the confines of his own bedroom.                     

 

_“Technically_ I always have a knife on me,” he countered.

 

Peter huffed a laugh. “Oh, _my mistake_. Let me rephrase: you didn’t specify what tools you guys could have _just_ so you could **use** a knife, didn’t you?”

 

What a smart cookie.

 

Wade could do with a fluffy sugar cookie right about now, actually. Mm.  

 

“Bingo,” Wade agreed. He snapped some finger guns at Peter with a wink before he turned to Michelle. He needed to make doubly sure it was okay he had a knife in her household. She _was_ the host, after all, and Wade was _nothing_ but the _perfect_ house guest. “Hey. This is fine, right?”

 

She nodded without hesitation. “Of course, dude. It’s just a knife; I have a whole bunch of those in my kitchen anyway. Besides, I highly doubt you’d ever under any circumstances use that on any of us.”

 

…right.

 

Note to self: give knife to Weasel before the video ends, just in case Wade **loses it**  when the boxes come back.

 

“Alright, cool. Vanessa, you got the timer? …Okay. Let’s start in…three! Two! One! _GO!”_

 

 

 

The art-off went about as well as could be expected. Meaning: _it went fucking awesome_.

 

Michelle was a _whiz_ with a pencil, her rough sketch of her tree completed in about fifteen seconds while Wade was still carving out the trunk with his knife. Wade had decided pretty quickly that instead of gauging into the wood like an animal, he was going to trail his blade lightly across the surface of the wood so that his tree was made out of shallow scratches. It worked a hell of a lot better than it would have if he tried sticking his knife in a far as it would go and jerking it around like a madman.

 

The banter was top of the line, too; Weasel had tried to poke fun at Wade’s tree by saying that it looked like a five-year-old’s interpretation of a flower, which sparked this whole argument that eventually led to the two of them agreeing that while five years was a long time in any type of industry, it really was no time at all when it came to human life. Peter had then added that five years was an eternity to cells, and the conversation quickly spiraled out of control until Vanessa loudly declared that the time was up.     

 

“Pencils down!” Vanessa shouted. Michelle placed her’s onto the table, a pleased smile on her face. And she had every reason to; her tree looked _amazing,_ like the White Tree of Gondor only without all the sigils and mysticism around it.

 

Wade’s was…well.

 

It was something.

 

Wade just didn’t know what that _something_ was.

 

He froze where he was, knife still in his hand. “Uh, by pencils down do you mean just pencils or utensils in general?”

 

“ _In general,_ doofus.”

 

He went to put his knife back into his boot when he remembered his mental note. He let out a quiet ‘oh!’ and passed it off to Weasel, who gave him a knowing look but didn’t comment. Wade cleared his throat, looking from Michelle’s art to his. “So…ha, okay, I knew there was gonna be a clear winner but I honestly didn’t think it would be _this_ clear, holy ****shit****.”

 

Michelle looked over at his and stared at it thoughtfully, tilting her head and squinting. Like, okay, rude. _Uncalled for (but hilarious) discount_ , anyone? Does anyone else remember that Progressive commercial? The one where they started saying ‘discount’ after everything? Flo was a comedy genius, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

 

Now that Wade thought about it, though, Flo was basically the only thing keeping Progressive from tanking into bankruptcy. The second they got rid of her, their business was done. Over. Contract terminated. Canceled. Wade would start #ProgressiveIsCancelled on twitter _himself,_ gosh darnnit! Flo was a fucking legend.

 

“It’s not…that bad?” Michelle eventually decided.

 

Wade couldn’t contain his snort.

 

He said, “I think it’s about time we let the audience see?” With his own board still faced towards him, Wade smiled over at Michelle and pointed at hers. “How about you go first? No detailed explanation needed, believe me. My audience does _not_ have the attention span for that.” He made sure to toss a wink at the camera. No reason to offend anyone, after all.

 

She shrugged and wasted no time showing her art to the audience. “So this is my tree. I’m sure we _all know_  my inspiration.”

 

“Hey! It’s the White Tree of Gondor!” Peter yelled excitedly. His whole face lit up as he looked at it, his smile bright and damn near _sparkling_ , and _Wade was not jealous over a pencil drawing uh uh **nope**_ **.**   

 

Wade’s not-envy was probably extremely noticeable. He needed to hide it and fast. How do you cover up definitely-not-jealousy? Quick, brain, think…oh!

 

With _comedy,_ of course. That’s what he used to cover up everything else, why wouldn’t it work here, too?

 

Wade coughed and cracked his neck, shaking his shoulders out in mock confidence. “Yeah, okay, sure,” he drawled, making a face, “that’s cool or whateva -” Weasel was gonna pop a vein at this rate - “but, uh, I think we all know who the real winner is here. I give you” he flipped his board around “the Fuck Off Tree.”

 

Weasel laughed so hard Wade was certain he’d blow his back out if he kept it up for too long.

 

“I - I - _oh fuck_  -” he wheezed - “oh man it’s even worse than it was earlier!”

 

It was a…modest drawing, to put it politely. The trunk was just two curved lines with a ‘v’ at the top to symbolize branches, and the leaves looked like a crudely drawn thought bubble. Random lines rested below it to represent the grass and there was even a little flower standing tall beside the tree.

 

It looked like trash, yes, but Wade knew for a fact that he had every Kindergarten teacher _quaking._

 

Wade stole a glance at Peter and saw him smiling in amusement at Wade - not the tree, but **Wade** \- and Wade had to look away before his good cheek turned red. He already felt pathetic enough by how much Peter affected him, so he really didn’t need Peter pitying him for unrequited feelings.

 

“Like I said: we all know who the _real_ winner is,” Wade said cockily, leaning forward towards the camera. Vanessa was covering her mouth with her hand to try and contain her giggling. She wasn’t very successful.

 

“But,” he pointed to the camera, “even though the winner is _obvious_ because, heh, _hello,_ it is up to you guys to ultimately decide the winner. Who will it be: Me, Deadpool, your all-time favorite YouTuber who left every five-year-old child _quaking_ today” Vanessa lost her internal battle and turned around in her seat as she hunched over, her laughter too much to hold back ant longer “or MJDoodles, an artistically inclined _plagiarist_ who ripped off the great J.R.R Tolkien and has a dick painting hanging freely in her house?”

 

“I am _proud_ of my dick,” Michelle cut in. She said it with a completely serious face, too. What a legend.

 

Wade nodded approvingly. “And you should be. But hey, before we go, who do you guys think won? Weasel?”

 

“Michelle,” Weasel said immediately. Traitor.

 

“Traitor,” Wade said aloud, “What about you, Vanessa?”

 

“...You know I love you, Wade -”

 

Weasel snorted. Wade shushed him.

 

“-but I think I’m gonna have to go with Michelle. Sorry.”

 

“What is this, a mutiny?” Wade exclaimed incredulously. “Okay, you know what? That’s fine. We still got one more vote. Petey, what about you? Who do you think won?”

 

Peter’s tongue peeked out to lick thoughtfully at his lips (and holy God did Wade want him to do that again) as he crossed his arms. He hummed. “Well,” he started, “I - I think I’m gonna go with…you know what? I got you. I choose Wade. I think Wade won.”

 

What?

 

Oh, fuck.

 

This had to be the best day of Wade’s life.

 

Wade fist pumped the air then stood up to give Peter a high five. “Hell yeah,” he shouted, “I’ve got a point! The most important point, in my opinion. It’s the only one not given by _traitors.”_

 

Weasel rolled his eyes. “Can you stop being dramatic for two seconds, dude?”

 

“There is literally no chance in Hell,” Wade replied. Peter chuckled and bit his lip in mirth.

 

And he _llo_ , spank bank material.

 

Wade sat back down on the couch and clapped as he said, “Okay then, this is the end of the video! I know, I know, a real tragedy. But never fear! After this we’re gonna go film Michelle’s, which I personally am _very_ excited about so you should be, too. Peter said something about going outside for it?”

 

Michelle nodded, then glanced at Peter with a smirk. Peter glared at her and rolled his eyes. Huh. That was…weird. Had Wade missed something?

 

…Anyway.

 

“We’re goin’ outside, so make sure you go to her channel and check that out. And I think that’s all I’ve got for today, _so, as always _,__  place your bets for next week’s video and maybe you’ll be the lucky winner of - dramatic pause - **the dead pool**. Ta!”

 

Weasel shut the camera off and the boxes started _**screaming.**_

 

Wade shouted in pain and flung his torso into a hunch, his hands flying up to clutch desperately at his hair.

 

[ _HOW_ **DARE** _YOU, YOU WORTHLESS PILE OF SHIT-]_

_{WHERE ARE WE WHERE **THE FUCK** ARE WE-}_

_[- **YOU THREW US INTO THE PIT AGAIN.**_ **AGAIN** **.** _ **YOU**_ **KNO** **W** _ **WHAT IT DOES TO US AND YOU TOSSED US AWAY ANYWAY LIKE**_ **GARBAGE-** ]

_{-WE’RE CAPTURED. THEY TOOK US AGAIN, **THEY TOOK US **-**** }_

_[-YOU_ **SEE** _WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU GET RID OF US? **DO YOU SEE, YOU IGNORANT WASTE OF SPACE? **-**** ]_

_{-WE NEED TO **GET OUT. KILL OUR CAPTORS. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT-** }_

_[- **TAKE CARE OF**_ **YO** **UR** _ **PROBLEMS, LIKE**_ **ALW** **AYS **-**** ]

 

A slight, warm hand touched one of his softly and Wade jolted back, suddenly terrified. The boxes kept screaming, voices overlapping until Wade could barely tell the difference between them.

 

{ _ **THEY’RE HERE**_ }

 

[- _ **KILL THEM. KILL THEM ALL**_ ** _ ** _-_**_** ]

 

Vanessa.

 

It was Vanessa.

 

Wade lunged towards her with his arms outstretched, and Vanessa didn’t even flinch as he clung to the back of her shirt with a vice grip and buried his face in her chest.

 

Vanessa was here. That meant he was okay, because wherever she was, was safety, she’d said so herself, she wouldn’t lie to him, she _promised_ -

 

Vanessa moved to sit beside him on the couch - _where had Michelle gone? When did she leave?_  - as she held him, thin arms wrapped securely around Wade’s neck as he whimpered pathetically into her.

 

Eventually, the boxes stopped screaming in uncontrolled rage and terror, started to slowly come back to themselves and register their surroundings. As time went on, Wade could pick upon his sense again, could hear Weasel packing up their stuff and taking it out to the car, could feel Vanessa’s steady heartbeat against his head. It took him a bit longer to realize that at some point during his episode Michelle and Peter had left the room, maybe to give him privacy? Yeah, that sounded right. Why did that sound right?

 

A few minutes later, Wade felt he was calm enough to finally pull away. He sat up, face suspiciously wet, and lifted one of his hands off of Vanessa to rub at his eyes. “Man, that was a real doozy,” he mumbled tiredly. Vanessa smiled at him gently and pulled her sleeve over her hand to take over drying his face. The feeling of her soft sleeve felt good against his skin, and he used that touch to ground himself.

 

“Definitely a big one,” she agreed. The door opened and closed again as Weasel came back in the house, and Wade watched as his best friend’s shoulders slumped in relief when he saw Wade staring back at him.

 

“Hey, man,” Weasel greeted. He walked over and sat down on the arm of the couch next to Wade, resting a hand on his shoulder as he did so. “That was a bad one, huh?”

 

“The worst,” Wade corrected. With a jolt, Wade remembered what Peter had said about him and Michelle clearing out before he had an episode. That explained why the privacy thing seemed familiar. A wave of embarrassment shot through him. They had seen. They saw Wade fucking **lose it**  on Michelle’s couch not two hours after meeting them.

 

{Peter saw? Oh, _man,_ he’s gonna think we’re _nuts.}_

 

[Hey, Yellow? I want you to say that again. Slowly.]

 

{Whatever. You know what I meant. But **_Peter.}_**

 

Yeah. Any chance Wade had of becoming Peter’s friend was basically non-existent at this point. And the two of them getting into a relationship? It was laughable. Never gonna happen.

 

{We don’t know that!}

 

[Yes, we do.]

 

“White’s right,” Wade muttered quietly to the boxes, “We completely fucked everything up.”

 

Vanessa cut in, words sharp and tone serious, “You didn’t fuck anything up.”

 

“I _did,I did,_ ” Wade insisted, “How long have we known these guys? An hour, if that? And I just went _coo-coo for cocoa puffs_  in the _middle of their living room. **I’ve fucked everything up!**_ ”

 

“You _literally_ haven’t,” Weasel deadpanned, “Actually, as soon as you doubled over Peter grabbed Michelle and ushered her out. Sayin’ somethin’ about giving you your privacy. You guys talked about this, didn’t you? Over by the corner? It was pretty obvious, too, what with how starstruck you started to look near the end. The point is, they both knew this was going to happen. It’s all good, man. No one thinks you fucked up.”

 

[I wouldn’t say _no one _.__ ]

 

{Yeah. _I’m_ pretty sure we’ve got _zero_ chance on acting out _any_ of our spank bank fantasies with the real deal. Nice going.}

 

[Ugh. Grow up, Yellow. You’re disgusting.]

 

{I’m right though, bitch.}

 

Weasel continued, “It probably means jack shit coming from me, though -” ha, jack shit, ‘cause his name is Jack? - “so do you think it’s okay for ‘em to come back in? So they can tell you _themselves_ that it’s all good?”

 

Oh, fuck. Yeah, they did need to come back in, didn’t they? God, this would be so much easier if they were at Wade’s house because then they could just order pizza like they normally did but n _oo_ o. They had to do _adult_ things because they were at an _adult’s_ house.

 

[Michelle is 19. We’re 25. _Our_ house should be the adult one.]

 

{ _Yesyesyes_  I wanna see Petey. Bring me my Petey Pie! I only got a lil’ glimpse of him earlier come on please _please_ -}

 

_“Alright,_ Yellow, _fuck.”_ Wade cleared his throat. “And, uh, yeah, Weas. I guess it’s fine now.”

 

Weasel nodded and with one last pat on Wade’s shoulder left to retrieve Michelle and Peter from…wherever they were.

 

{Peter’s coming! Oh man, White, quick: how do I look?}

 

[...are you being serious right now?]

 

Vanessa sighed and pulled him into another hug. “Everything’s fine, Wade,” she reassured. Wade dropped his head down onto her shoulder and groaned heavily.

 

“Easy for you to say,” he grumbled, “You didn’t just humiliate yourself in front of the guy you like and his intimidating artsy friend.”

 

Vanessa hummed. “What does her being artsy have to do with anything?”

 

Wade shrugged. “I didn’t want to say ‘girl’ because while it’s easy to tell the difference in writing, it needs clear pronunciation in speech to get the difference between girlfriend and girl -space - friend across. The English language kinda fuckin’ sucks that way.”

 

Thankfully, Vanessa didn’t get a chance to answer his post-spiral word vomit because the Golden Trio walked in, Weasel leading them with Peter and Michelle came in behind him.

 

Wade felt like he was being put in front of the firing squad.

 

{That’d be fun.}

 

Um. No it wouldn’t??? ?? ????

 

{Spoilsport >:Þ.}

 

“What the fuck,” Wade wondered aloud. _How the hell did he make that face -?_

 

Peter was the first of them to speak. “Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked.

 

{Let’s fuck him.}

 

[What?]

 

_{What?_ He wants to know how we are! Fuck. Him.}

 

_[God,_ you’re pathetic. _And_ desperate.]

 

{Hey, fuck off, yeah? You wanna dick him down, too, don’t act like you don’t!}

 

“Is now really the time, guys?”

 

{It is **always** the time to talk about Petey. You know that phrase alcoholics like to use, ‘ _it’s five o’clock somewhere?_ ’ It’s kinda like that, only with a hot piece of ass instead of alcohol.}

 

Alcohol was actually starting to sound pretty good right about now.

 

Wade realized that he had spent far too long in silence and answered, “I’m doin’ okay, **so.** Game plan. We filmed my video, so now we can take a much-needed breather so I can get my head back on completely straight - well, as straight as it an get, h _eyo_  - and then…oh, shit. We’re going outside. Fuck. Roadblock. Construction signs. _So many_  orange coats.”

 

Weasel snorted. “They’re called _construction workers_ , doofus.”

 

Wade saw Michelle tense up, Peter, too. It took him a second to figure out why, but when he did, he wheezed a laugh. Weasel and him had been doing this _cheer up_ routine for so long now that he constantly forgot how bad it looked to outsiders; Vanessa had once said that it came across as Weasel being an unsympathetic douche bag to his clearly struggling mentally handicapped friend.

 

Which was _so totally **not** true,_ even though Weasel was very much a slimy asshole.

 

So, Wade decided to kill two birds with one stone by quipping back at Weasel while simultaneously reassuring the jury that he really __was__ okay with how his friend spoke to him.

 

“Oh, like _you’d_ know, Mr. I-Failed-Woodwork-101. Fuck outta here.”

 

_“First_  of all: woodwork and construction are not the same thing. Second of all: no.”

 

They kept it up, firing insults and random comments back and forth until the air felt comfortable again and everybody relatively looked as relaxed as they had been before Wade went mental. Eventually, Peter worked up the nerve to join in on the fun (which Wade _refused_ to fangirl over, and he flipped Weasel the bird when the man wiggled his eyebrows at him), and soon the living room was full of laughter and conversation as they fell back into their rhythm.

 

Eventually, the group conversation started to slowly petered out until they all broke off into their own side conversations.

 

Peter plopped down next to Wade on the couch. “Hey,” he greeted with a lovely grin on his face. Wade felt his own face heat up a little, which only made Peter’s grin grow wider into a full-fledged, toothy smile.

 

{He likes us! Let’s fuck him.}

 

[Will you _stop_ with that? He’s probably just amused at how flustered the big guy can get.]

 

“Hey, Petey,” Wade replied, steadfastly ignoring the boxes continued conversation, “Sorry about that whole - **thing** \- earlier. It’s just, the new environment really threw off the boxes, yanno?”

 

{Ooh, ooh, big guy’s talking about us to Petey! Let’s -}

 

[ _Do not finish that sentence_.]  

 

Petey laughed and shook his head. “It’s really okay, Wade. We knew what could happen before you even showed up. _Expected_ it, even. Nothing has happened so far that either of us weren’t okay with.”

 

That’s - good.

 

Unless…he was lying!

 

No. No, Peter wouldn’t lie about something like that. Wade hadn’t actually _known_ the guy for very long, but it was plainly obvious that Peter wasn’t the type to shy away from someone with mental health problems. If he had the Wade would have stomped his crush down into itty bitty pieces by now.

 

So Peter really thought it was okay, which…yeah, that’s _definitely_ good. Peter not minding that Wade went full Joker in his friend’s living room meant that he _maybe probably most likely_  was still open to being friends with Wade? Hopefully?

 

“...Really?” Wade asked. He had to be sure.

 

Peter nodded again.

 

…

 

Alright then.

 

Wade sighed in relief and slumped boneless against the couch. “Oh, thank the __Lord__ , baby boy. You know there was this one time where we were in the grocery store and that new Green Day song came on over the loud speaker and Yellow _wouldn’t stop screaming_  like a total fucking _fangirl_ for, like, **days** afterwards?”

 

Peter chuckled beside him,. As their talk continued, Peter ended up close enough that Wade could feel his shoulders move with every breath and could smell the slight vanilla scent of his cologne. Weasel and Vanessa continuously glanced curiously over at them every few minutes, while Michelle constantly watched Wade and Peter with an unabashedly smarmy smirk on her face.

 

Surrounded by friends, and laughter, and gentle scents, Wade felt the last shreds of panic wash away from him until he felt well and truly peaceful.

 

{Have you guys ever stopped to consider that the phrase ‘money shot’ is most commonly used with porn stuff, but is, in and of itself, a pure idiom meant only to state that something is of the highest level of perfection it can get?}

 

[...Where the _fuck_ did that even come from, Yellow?]

 

Well, mostly peaceful.

 

Yellow’s words twinged something inside of Wade, though, a part of him that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time, not since…well, Vanessa. When they dated. When Wade thought he was going to _marry_ her, one day. It sent a shock to his systems, not a large one, just a slight kick that sent his nerves into reboot. It would have caught Wade off guard had he not already known it was going to happen. Maybe not how it did, with Yellow spouting some kinda nonsense, but…

 

Peter had been on his mind for a year now. An entire year of watching and pining over that beautiful boy sitting beside him on a worn-in couch, laughing at Wade’s jokes and even telling some of his own. It didn’t shock Wade that Peter was just as good and pure in person as he had seemed on screen because Wade had already known that Peter was genuine. It was obvious in every move he made, every word he spoke, that he couldn’t fake his personality if his life depended on it.    

 

Peter launched into his own story, something silly about the time when he and Ned had snuck out of school to go and attend Comic Con, and Peter angled his body to face more towards Wade.

 

Wade gazed at him softly, leisurely taking in the slight curve of his upturned nose, the light freckles doted along his cheeks, the length of his lashes and the color of Peter’s eyes as they flashed in laughter, and he couldn’t help but think that this, right here, was his money shot of the year.

 

{So pretty…}

 

Wade just hoped Peter felt the same.       

     

And if not, well…

 

All he could do was hope that Peter found his money shot, too. Even if it wasn’t Wade. All he could do was hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our-Universe YouTubers mentioned: Shane Dawson, Bretman Rock, and Markiplier's interpretation of Ethan's intro. I wish I could say what Ethan's channel is called but uh...¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ But yeah, I think that's all of them. 
> 
> By the way, I've run out of interesting YouTubers to watch, so what are you guys' suggestions? I'm open to anything. 
> 
> FOR ANYONE WHO WANTED TO READ WADE'S CHANNEL STUFF:
> 
> -Will absolutely slAM child abusers/rapists/racists/etc of any kind on his channel with no shame (basically instead of physically killing them he socially murders them)  
> -Feminist but addresses the misandry confusion (“Sorry to say, but if you hate men - You. Are. Not. A. Feminist. Got it? You’re making us look bad. Cut it out.”)  
> -Makes a lot of inappropriate jokes (dark humor) but will stop if it legitimately makes someone uncomfortable/triggers them  
> -Whatever the fuck channel w/ main focus series stuff  
> -Conspiracy videos (most famous - life isn’t real/Earth is a science experiment/aliens are constantly watching us so let’s just fuck with them guys  
> -Weapon videos (How to’s, Clean, Properly load gun, Disassemble/reassemble/safety/permit, Storage, Etc)  
> -Mental health awareness (Schizophrenia, Depression/anxiety, wHATEVER, #GetTheFuckHelp, Etc)  
> -Miscellaneous (Mukbangs, Vlogs, Requested stuff (reactions and the like), Q&As)  
> -#LookAtThis (series mostly comprising of cute animals/funny  
> signs/etc but sometimes has Real Shit ™ like  
> discrimination/ableism/etc)  
> -Weasel is his cameraman (like Andrew (Shane Dawson's camera guy)  
> is now w/ talking and being part of the action and just overall  
> hilarious)  
> -Vanessa (ex gf but very much a Good Bro ™) constantly fixes his  
> appearance (revealed during a livestream when she fussed over him  
> for five minutes without realizing it was live; the banter between the  
> three of them caused instant like towards her and is now a common  
> feature in videos)
> 
> Basically his channel is an organized mess of topics that shouldn't work together but do, which is a perfect representation of what Wade himself is like. Sorry if this isn't what you guys thought but it's what I envisioned so yeah :/ 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know you liked it by doing anything except clicking away without doing anything. If that made sens. I'm rambling eww I gotta go bye


	4. Creep City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe don't let Wade be alone after having an epiphany because he WILL freak the fuck out about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry, guys, but this isn't the chapter I'm sure you guys were hoping for. I'm really sick right now and I want Michelle's video to be written while I'm in my right mind, so this is kind of like a small insight into Wade's head at the moment. It's not that long because - I'm sick, so... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I'll probably go back and edit this more once I'm feeling better, but I didn't want you guys to wait an unforeseen amount of time for the next chapter. I hope you guys understand and like this regardless~

Wade was a lot of things.

 

He was a man, for one. In the _barest_ sense of the word, according to the angelic _bitch_ that was his ex-girlfriend. Vanessa liked to call him a _boy_ whenever she was mad at him for doing something or other (like the one time when Wade had accidentally gotten Play-Doh in her makeup bag - don’t ask - and she had been angry at him for three days). Weasel, on the other hand, was entirely convinced that Wade was a little bitch boy 24/7, and _nothing_ could dissuade him from that. Wade had tried. Many times.

 

He was also a YouTuber, a pretty successful one, at that. All of his content was stuff he actually enjoyed doing, like using weapons, telling conspiracy theories, etc. So he was honest in that regard and on how his mental health affected him - some of the time. His audience didn’t need to know everything about that particular snake pit.

 

He was an asshole, too. That didn’t really need explaining. He was an excellent marksman, (usually) a pretty good friend, a food enthusiast, a romantic, and an exceptionally good cook, if Wade did say so himself.

 

Wade was a lot of things, but a _coward_ wasn’t one of them.

 

As such, that meant that Wade was absolutely positively _not_ hiding in Michelle’s downstairs bathroom, nu uh, **no he wasn’t**. He was just…fixing himself up. Yep. Just making sure he looked nice. For Pet - for the cameras.

 

Without looking in the mirror.

 

For fifteen minutes now.

 

While…standing still.

 

Not doing anything.

 

…

 

Okay, _fine._ So he _was_ hiding. So what?

 

[You’re seriously pathetic.]

 

{Is that your favorite word or something? Seriously, you’ve called people that, what, _fifty times_  now during this trip _alone?_ Get a new insult, noob.}

 

[I **would** grace that with a response, but I don’t want to. I _do_ want to know why Wade is _hiding in a fucking bathroom like a thirteen year old girl?_ ]

 

“Leave me alone! I’m having an existential crisis!”

 

Wade crouched down in front of the sink and leaned back against it.

 

Peter, he had decided, was a menace. A fucking adorable, fluffy haired, doe eyed __menace__ that in no way, shape, _or form_ deserved to have some crack-pot fucking **loser** like Wade pining over his - his _everything._ It was so creepy! They literally just met each other and here Wade was, obsessing over Peter’s ability to be a decent human being. Calling him his _money shot_  - hah! He didn’t even know the guy!

 

[Weren’t you just thinking that Peter was a ‘genuine person?’]

 

Peter _was_ a genuine person, _but the point_  was that Wade had only actually known him for three hours now. Catching feelings for someone that quick was - was -

 

{ _Completely expected _.__  Just look at him! With his pretty brown eyes and his beautiful sexy body. It’s a surprise he isn’t taken already because _damn,_ **dat ass though **.**** }

 

[Ugh. You are _so_ dense. We all know that you want to fuck him, Yellow, but that’s _not_ what Wade meant.]

 

 **Right.** It would have been no big deal if Wade’s infatuation was only skin deep like Yellow’s was. He wouldn’t be freaking out at all if all he wanted to do was throw Peter down and have his wicked way with him all night long on every available surface.

 

And he _did_ want to do that. Very much so. It’s just that that wasn’t all he wanted to do. He wanted to worship that ass till the cows came home, sure, but he also wanted to cuddle with Peter on the couch, watch movies with him in bed, wake up next to him and make Peter breakfast and make sure he ate throughout the day and _uuggghhhh. This wasn’t normal_. It was absolutely **insane** that he was feeling like this for someone he had only just fucking met.

 

Watching videos about him without ever talking to him didn’t count as actual interactions, dammit! It might even be considered _stalking in this context, for fucks sake!_ It was **creepy!**

 

[It _is_ really creepy. But it is **you** we’re talking about.]

 

{Yeah, seriously. You always do this. Isn’t this the reason you and Vanessa broke up? Because you got a bit too into the ‘happily ever after’ storybook fantasy?}

 

Oh, no. No, no, no. Not this again.

 

[You were so naive back then, thinking that a simple ‘I love you’ and a few romantic gestures meant _she_ wanted _you_ as much as _you_ wanted _her._ What a joke.]

 

{Man. It’s gonna be the same way with Petey, too, isn’t it? We _gotta_ make sure we get inside him before that happens.}

 

[ _If_ that happens. You remember what Peter did when he saw the big guy smile? It repulsed him. He had to try and compose himself to keep his disgust from showing. You _really_ think he’s gonna want to fall in bed with someone that looks like a half-assed Freddy Krueger cosplay gone wrong?]

 

{Hmm…He might agree if we ask to do it doggy style -}

 

“ _Stop talking about him like that,_ ” Wade growled. The boxes stopped speaking and for a few, precious moments, Wade’s head was absolutely silent. But all good things had to come to an end, and Yellow maliciously chimed in,

 

{Oh? And what are you gonna do if I don’t, _hit me_? I’m in your head, jackass. _I_ think what _you_ think. You want to fuck Peter just as much as I do -}

 

[I’m gonna stop you there, Yellow. You think _some_ of what the big guy does, but not all. If _that_ was the case, there wouldn’t really be any point to us, would there? The whole reason we showed up in the first place was because Wade was too -!]

 

_Knock knock!_

 

“Hey, Wade? Are you okay in there?” a voice called from the other side of the door. It took a second for Wade to place it with his head as crowded as it was, but as soon as he did he sucked in a breath and struggled to stand.

 

“Uh, yeah!” he answered, “Um, just - give me a second, okay? I’m almost done.”

 

After he stood up and dusted off his clothes, Wade glanced into the mirror. His scars stared back at him.

 

Yep. Still ugly. He let out an annoyed huff and shook his shoulders out. “Get it together, Wade,” he muttered to himself.

 

[Like that’s ever gonna happen.]

 

Asshole.

 

Wade opened the door. Peter stood on the other side of it, the look of concern on his face overshadowed by his innate curiosity. Just the site of it made Wade’s heart twinge in his chest.

 

 _Such a fucking creep_.

 

“Sorry, it’s just - you’ve been in there for a long time and we were just about to head out. Are you sure you’re okay?” Peter asked.

 

Wade flashed his best smile and hoped it didn’t look as fake as it really was. “No, yeah, everything’s fine. Just needed some time to myself, yanno?”

 

Peter stared at him for a few seconds, and for a split second Wade feared that Peter was going to call him out when Peter nodded, a pleased smile working its way onto his face as he peered up at Wade. Which wasn’t fair because Peter was positively _breathtaking._

 

{Let’s take __his__ breath away, if you know what I mean.}

 

“ _Stop it_ ,” Wade snapped. He tried to do it quietly enough that Peter didn’t hear him, but it was obvious he hadn’t succeeded by the worried furrow that was forming between the other man’s brows. Peter stepped forward hesitantly.

 

“...Who - which one is it? That’s - talking, right now?”

 

…Um. Hmm?

 

{Oh, my God. Oh, my fucking - he’s talking about me! Ah! Do I look okay? Is my hair straight? White, help me out, is there anything in my teeth?}

 

[I have had it up to _here_ with your **bullshit,** Yellow -!]

 

Wade floundered, his mouth opening and closing in shocked silence. Was Peter actually…asking about the boxes? Like, voluntarily?

 

_What?_

 

“Uh…”

 

Apparently Peter took Wade’s inability to speak as a negative sign because his eyes widened in panic and he stuttered out, “I - I’m so sorry, that was probably so far out of line, I am _so_ sorry -!”

 

“No - no, it’s fine, it’s just…” Wade reassured. He didn’t know what was happening; all he knew was that Peter was turning out to be more of an angel than he’d ever thought and that _really_ wasn’t good for the whole _Try Not to be a Creep_  thing. “No one besides V and Weas have ever… _voluntarily_ asked about the - the boxes. It just threw me off guard, is all.”

 

Like _really_ off guard. As in, _wig flew to the other side of the fucking universe_  level shit. What the fuck was happening today? First, Peter tried to make things comfortable for Wade - which hardly ever happened, by the way. Then he respected Wade’s privacy when he went postal: yet another anomaly. Strangers eight times out of ten stopped to take pictures. _Then_ he talked to Wade afterwards to help calm him down, and **now** he was genuinely asking about the damn **boxes in Wade’s head**?

 

**_What!?_ **

 

This wasn’t real. This _couldn’t_ be real. This was some - some kind of _simulation_ or something with Wade as the poor, unsuspecting Sim ™ that gets everything he ever wanted only to end up trapped inside a swimming pool with no ladder and forced to swim until he _drowned _-__

__

“I - oh. Well, I mean, I want to be - _friends,_ with you, so I thought that the best way to do that would be to try and, you know, actually understand you.  All of you.”

 

…

 

Okay, _now_ Wade was convinced that this wasn’t, in fact, a simulation; it _had_ to be a fanfiction. A really shitty one, too, where the main character has a lot of Good Things happen to them because they _deserve_ it or some cliche shit like that. Wade had read a lot of those himself and he liked them, really, he did, but that stuff just didn’t happen in real life. The fact that it was apparently happening to him now was…

 

{GASP! _CONSPIRACY THEORY_! The world around us is just one giant fanfiction!}

 

[No.]

 

Yeah, no, that would be…really stupid. Who the hell would want to read a story about Wade’s shitty life, anyway? _Wade_ certainly wouldn’t want to.

 

“...Oh.” That was all Wade could say in response. Thankfully, Peter didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he smiled warmly at Wade again before he ducked his head, looking back up at Wade through his eyelashes as he bit at his lip.

 

That just proved that Peter __was__ _definitely_ a menace, but in a _completely_ different context this time around because **holy _shit._**  Wade chanced a quick glance down at his crotch and _yep,_ he _llo Wade Jr_. How ya doin’, buddy?

 

Quick, before Peter noticed, say something - _anything_ -

 

Wade cleared his throat. “So, you said you guys were planning on - uh, leaving soon?”

 

Peter stopped biting his lip and licked them quickly, his brows dropping slightly before they shot back up in excitement. “Yeah,” he said, “We’re just waiting on you. Are you - ready to head out?”

 

{I’m ready to get _our_ head out, if you know what I -}

 

[Can you maybe _not_ be a hypersexual pig? Just a suggestion.]

 

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go.”

 

After another happy smile, Peter reached out and patted Wade’s bicep. His eyebrows did some funny thing and his mouth partially opened before he cleared his throat and stepped back, sliding his hand off of Wade’s arm slowly. He turned around and, after making sure Wade was going to follow him, started walking down the hallway to meet up with the others.

 

Now, Wade was a simple man with simple needs, and even simpler desires. So he couldn’t help but glance down and watch the smooth glide and sway of Peter’s hips as he walked, and there was no way in _hell_ he was going to miss the soft bounce of his ass that was obvious even under the barrier of his faded jeans.

 

 _{Uggghhhh,_ **fuck,** that **_ass._** I think I just came a little.}

 

[...]

 

Wade couldn’t help but agree with Yellow that Peter had just about the _finest_ ass on this side of Hades.

 

If the rest of the trip was going to have a view like this, then Wade was going to be in _trouble._

 

Peter peered back at Wade over his shoulder, an amused smirk pulling at his lips (maybe because Weasel was currently trapped in a headlock by Vanessa?). It added a mischievous air to him, and Wade would be lying if he said that the look _didn’t_ make his cock twitch in his pants, or that it didn’t make it significantly harder to walk normally from his pants tightening around him.  

 

He was going to be in some serious, _serious_ trouble.

 

Wade could already tell that it was going to be a _long_ day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'll edit this more later. Promise :)
> 
> I'm also taking suggestions for what they do in Michelle's video. If you have anything you want me to add, let me know and I'll try my best!
> 
> Shameless plug: I have two other stories up right now and I would really appreciate it if you guys could go check them out if you haven't already :)
> 
> Also, I have a [tumblr](http://xxhollyleahxx.tumblr.com/) now in case you want to come talk to me, check up on story updates, look at spideypool stuff, etc. Also my profile pic is actually me so you'll get to see what I look like lol. Just don't get too excited...seriously. It's still a work in progress aesthetic-wise.


End file.
